Fell and Falling
by justheretoposttrash
Summary: To tell the truth, at one point I found myself wishing that you were a woman. It would've made things easier for me, you know? All the same, I wanted to know everything about you: why you never used people to your advantage; how it was that you made me feel so safe when you were around; and why, sometimes when I thought of you, I'd cough up flower petals. (AO3 cross-post)
1. Chapter 1

Author's note:

Hello intrepid readers! As you might've guessed, there'll be Hanahaki disease-type stuff as a mechanic in this fic-but this fanfic takes a bit of an alternative spin on it, and oftentimes has it in the background rather than foreground, so it'll be fairly untraditional in that sense. There will be more of an emphasis on backstory, fluff, and snapshots of Claude's experiences. There will also be content warnings on individual chapters as they apply. If all that's your cup of tea, then happy reading!

CW: Abuse, animal violence

Edit 3/26/2020: This fic was completed around the same time that some new canon was revealed about our favorite golden boy in a Nintendo Dreams interview (guess I'll die). I may revisit and edit/revise some backstory things to preserve canonicity, but not for a good, GOOD while. It's unclear whether more canon will be revealed later, so I'm just going to accept the fact that I can't keep up until the franchise has lived long enough that no new info will drop. In the meanwhile, if that interview has greatly affected your personal headcanons, please take any inconsistencies with a grain of salt. Thank you lovelies!

* * *

**White Clouds**

Curious. That was the word that I thought of as I observed you.

Not to say that you were curious of me, but that _I_ found _you_ to be rather interesting. Though I had to admit, it was funny that the word "curious" could go both ways like that. What a confusing way to use a word, yeah?

Well. It was a strange language we shared, you and I.

As I introduced myself to you, it seemed like you were listening. Something was off, though—maybe it was the stars, as faint as they were, somehow reflecting brightly in your eyes as if by some magic—or perhaps it was the awkward, sinking feeling of watching your gaze appear more and more distant as I spoke. It was a chilly night, and I thought in that moment that you were the coldest thing about it.

Everything was off—the way you joined me, the princess, and his kingliness without so much as a sigh of fatigue, the fact that you never so much as blinked when that reckless brigand rushed you, and the way you acted when I spoke to you afterwards—for all I could tell, looking like you were listening, but somehow feeling so far away and indifferent that it was almost irritating, even.

What made it bothersome, I think, was that I hated feeling as though I couldn't understand something, and the way you acted raised so many questions in just the hour or so that I'd known you. So, I decided that I was going to find out everything about you. Where did your strength come from? How were you so good at predicting our enemy's attacks? And how did stars as faded as pale ghosts end up burning brightly in your eyes?

"They all sound like they have their merits," you said, brief ripples disrupting the usual stillness of your face as you spoke. "But if I had to choose…perhaps I would choose the Leicester Alliance?"

You gestured at me. I could sense Edelgard's and Dimitri's disappointment at your answer, and I sensed a more profound shift within myself. So you really were listening to me this whole time. I wasn't surprised, exactly—but I wasn't expecting you to respond the way you did, either. It was hard to tell if I was pleased about it, but I probably was.

As the highnesses and I were about to walk ahead, I heard you murmur something—"curious"—I think that was what it was—as your starry eyes glanced at my mouth, then paused on my eyes. It didn't occur to me at that moment to ask what you meant by that. I just widened my smile a bit and turned away before things got too uncomfortable. It was one hell of a coincidence, though. With such an old and clunky language that we shared here in Fódlan-and in some other lands beyond—it was a wonder that people could understand each other as well as they did.

I could feel the chill night air curling around me as I looked up at the faded sky. The stars looked very, very far away.

* * *

**Dusk Stars**

I think I was around four or five years old when my wyvern hatched.

For practicality, a hatcher was in charge of all the wyvern eggs up to a point, to make sure the embryos grew in the correct conditions. Once the babies were strong, the hatcher would let the kids who were old enough (and privileged enough) pick out an egg to take home, which they were meant to protect and nurture until they emerged from their shells. The thing was, since wyverns were so huge—their babies included—it could take up to a couple more months for the baby to become ready to break out. People liked to read into the amount of time it took for a wyvern to hatch for a child. They tried to use it to predict that child's future, and the like.

Mine hatched the same day I got it. My father said that it was a good omen—a sign that I was to become a talented leader and would find a powerful wife with a lot of sway in the world. Being, you know, a kid at the time, I didn't really pay him any mind as I wiped the residue off of Csilla's dusky, slate-colored scales. Csilla—that was what I'd already named her. I guess it was love at first sight.

Csilla had a curiosity that matched my own. As soon as she'd mastered the art of standing and walking, she was chewing the bark off of trees, stomping through the gardens, and staring up at the birds flying through the sky, squeaking and chirping at them with her head tilting from side to side. Although she was supposed to stay outside alongside my father's wyvern, I snuck her inside the house constantly, and we had fun chowing down food from the kitchen and racing down the halls.

She was the only friend I'd ever had.

At first, since I was so young and could barely sprint myself, Csilla would win our races—then, after a couple years, I would always win. Wyvern legs weren't really made for speed, and by that time she had grown considerably bigger. My father, like the king before him, wasn't one for living in a giant palace with servants and spacious halls—he enjoyed being independent, getting his hands dirty, and joining his troops in battle. That was all well and good, except that the house we lived in wasn't nearly big enough to accommodate these little races anymore. Csilla could hardly fit down the hallway without scratching her wings and scales along the walls and knocking over all the tables and pottery.

"If you let her in the house again, then I'm going to get a chain for her," my mother threatened, supervising as I swept up the broken shards from our latest escapade. I kept wincing as I swept, covered in bruises, scrapes, and cuts from the grass. My father'd dragged me behind his horse again as soon as he saw the damage I'd caused. His punishments used to scare me, but not anymore—I guess I got used to it.

"That's not fair," I said with a pout.

"Oh? And how is that not fair?"

"Because—" I said, mind racing. "Because…Nader told me, uh...it's bad for wyverns to be in the sun too much. And then Csilla would get sick. So you have to let her inside."

"Uh-huh. Keep sweeping," my mother said, ruffling my hair. "I'm serious."

The thought of Csilla being chained up all day made my heart hurt, and the threat of it was enough to dissuade me from then on. However, Csilla didn't understand why she couldn't follow me inside the house anymore, and she certainly wasn't happy about it.

I was tossing and turning one night, still not used to sleeping in my bed without her there, when I heard Csilla's depressed crooning from outside. I got up and crept towards my window, gazing down at her silhouette down below. She was pacing in erratic loops and circles in the backyard. My father's wyvern, who was by now well-trained enough not to wander off, curled into a tighter ball on the ground and growled at the younger wyvern that was disturbing his sleep.

"Csilla, hush," I whispered. "You can't come with me anymore. Okay?"

She stopped pacing and looked up at me, tilting her head as she often did when she was curious.

"I mean it. You have to stay outside. Stay. Outside. Understand?"

With a tiny squeal, she tensed her legs as though she were going to leap up towards me and started flapping her wings. My jaw dropped when I saw her silhouette rising towards me, growing larger and larger until it was right outside my window. She squealed loudly with excitement when she saw my face. I grimaced, pausing to listen for whether my parents had awoken. When I heard nothing else, I threw open the window and jumped onto her back without a second thought.

"You can fly-you're really flying!" I said, throwing my arms around her neck and breathing in her scent. "I missed you."

I could hear her chest heaving with excitement as she flapped harder, rising above our rooftop. I looked down and felt a rush of adrenaline when I saw how far away the ground was, and I started laughing.

"Come on, let's go explore!" I said, patting her neck.

We started chasing after the clouds, climbing as high as we could until the air grew thin and cold. Then we dove down, passing over buildings and endless plains.

By the time we were too tired to continue, the sun had already started to rise.

With a few beleaguered wing flaps, Csilla brought us back behind the house and collapsed onto the ground. I flopped down next to her, and we fell asleep almost instantly.

My father shook me awake, and I squinted up at him, the sun now glaring over us with full strength.

"Am I in trouble?" I mumbled, and he shook his head.

"No…for once," he said, stroking my cheek. "But if your wyvern can fly, then that means you must start feeding her yourself from now on. From there, you can begin training her with food so that she knows how to follow your orders. Do you understand?"

I sat up, rubbing my eyes. "Okay," I said, not fully processing what he was saying.

"Good." He placed a tied rabbit in my arms, and my eyes widened. It was still alive, and I could feel it trembling as I held it. Its eyeball swiveled to look at me. "Go on," he said.

I looked back at Csilla, who'd raised her head sleepily to sniff at the air, and inched closer to her. I realized that it wasn't just the rabbit trembling—my arms were trembling, too.

Csilla lowered her head towards my arms, opened her mouth, and snapped it shut over the rabbit's body. Blood sprayed over my arms, and I fell back to the ground as I heard the snap of bones between Csilla's teeth.

"This, too, is a part of life," my father said as tears ran down my face.

With a gulp, Csilla turned back to me, muzzle dripping with blood and tissue. She stared at me. Heart pounding, I reached out and put my hand on her head, feeling her strength and stability beneath my palm. Soon enough, I was calm again—although the tears for the rabbit would not stop.

In Almyra, it was said that wyverns were meant to guide us through the two sides of existence—first they taught us how to bring life into the world, and then they taught us how to kill. It was said that a wyvern was the purest form of love.

Generally, you're supposed to be bonded with your wyvern for the rest of your life.

* * *

Author's note:

Thanks for reading my first chapter! The rest of the fic is already complete, with 16 chapters that will be uploaded semi-regularly starting from now. (I hope you like slow burns…) But yeah, no worries about this story getting finished. It's already done. Whoo!


	2. Chapter 2

CW: Bullying, racism, abuse, violence, hate crimes

* * *

**White Clouds**

My current plan was to get you to laugh. Or at least, to see if it was even possible to make you laugh. I wasn't one hundred percent on the details—I honestly was wondering if tickling you would do the trick. Then again, you'd allegedly lived your whole life as a mercenary, so I wasn't too sure if a surprise attack would activate any death-dealing reflexes on your part.

That being said, it was odd that you'd lived as a mercenary for so long, given that you looked around the same age as me. Maybe having to kill other people that early in life would make _anyone_ stony-faced.

But as I stepped up to the greenhouse entrance, your crouching form inside looked less like a killer and more like a kid playing in the sand. You were nearly up to your elbows in the dirt, and when you turned to face me at the sound of my footsteps, there were even dirt smudges on your forehead.

"I knew you had green hair—greenish, anyway—but a green thumb to boot? Okay, maybe that was a bit of a stretch," I said. You didn't even blink.

"This is my first time trying this sort of thing, actually. But I read up on it so that I could help out as much as I could, despite that," you replied.

"Huh. You know, you may end up having to study more than the students, thanks to this new gig you have. No offense, but I gather you don't have the background to be teaching a lot of this stuff."

Same-faced, you said, "The thought did cross my mind. But it's pretty exciting, being allowed to learn something new like this." You gestured with your dirt-caked fingers.

How exciting could it be? You didn't look excited at all. I scanned your placid expression for a shadow of irony. "Yeah? Well, don't hold out on me, then. Tell me all about these spine-tingling grass facts!" As you opened your mouth, I interjected, "Try to give me something unusual, though. I may have brushed up on plants myself—especially the poisonous ones. Purely for scientific reasons, I promise you."

You paused, probably because you were thinking in earnest. Probably.

"Ah! I've got it!" you said in an elevated voice, which made me nearly jump due to how sudden it was. You turned away, plucked a sprig off of some poor bush, and spun back around. A fluff of white wisps poked out from the twig in your hand, only just obscured by an agitated black beetle. You brandished it upward. "This is the sere—ah, fuck," you deadpanned as the beetle plopped from the flower onto the ground.

I wasn't expecting that. A snort flew out of my mouth.

"Sorry for the language," you said. "It's a habit I picked up from my father, though he told me not to speak like that here."

"Hey, colorful language makes for a colorful life," I said as you stooped down.

I laughed as you struggled to nudge the fallen beetle upright with your finger. "This kind of bug is good for the plants, but it's endangered," you muttered almost fussily as you placed it back among the greenery.

The laughter drained fast from my lungs, though, when you straightened up and started leaning forward, giving me an intense look.

"What? My face can't be _that_ fascinating, can it?" I asked. My cheeks felt a little hot. Even I was having trouble dealing with your odd nature.

"Oh. Well, it was the first time I'd heard you laugh. It's a really nice sound."

"Wow, you really know how to lay it on thick, huh?" I said, as if by reflex.

The muscles in your face relaxed. "Lay it on thick?" you asked neutrally.

"Forget it." I motioned to the flower, still held gently in your hand. "So? Tell me all about this amazing twig."

You held it up to me so that I could get a closer look.

"Right. This is the serenai. When it's fully matured, parts of it can be used as a kind of medicine, which is said to have a comforting effect for those who are in pain."

"Uh-huh. And when it hasn't matured?"

You gestured to the bush behind you. There were more white fluffs growing from it, as well as pale green flowers, nearly hidden due to how their unusual color blended in with the leaves.

"When it first blooms, the serenai has more typical flower petals. When it's like this, it can be brewed in tea to serve as an aphrodisiac," you replied plainly. It was a little disappointing that you didn't so much as blush during that whole spiel, though the biggest disappointment was that you hadn't laughed yet. Maybe I should have accepted a loss and left it there, but I had to wonder…

"Hey. Funny question, but...if someone were to tickle you, would you laugh? Or would you, you know, freak out and chop them in the neck?"

Silence crashed down around us as you stared at me. Had I made things too awkward? After a while, you looked down.

"I'm not sure. I haven't been tickled before."

"You're kidding, right? Didn't your family or your friends ever tickle you when you were a kid…?"

You glanced back up at me, and I took that to mean that you weren't kidding.

"Geez. Well, when life gives you a lack of tickles, make an opportunity for some!"

"That's not a saying—" You jerked as my fingers shot out and dug into your ribs, and you started to buckle sideways.

"W-whoa!" My hands flew from your ribs down to your waist to catch you. You were heavier than I thought you'd be. "Ha—what was _that_?" I asked as you righted yourself.

"I…wasn't expecting that. You'd moved so suddenly..."

I sighed, placing my hand on my forehead in thought. You really didn't laugh at all. "Curiosity got to me, I suppose."

"Sure. But…don't do that again," you said.

I had to chuckle. "Of course I won't. Not after you asked so nicely."

I noticed you'd dropped the flower you were holding, so I picked it up by the stem and tucked it behind your ear.

"Better not forget this," I said with a wink, as my fingers trailed away and began brushing the bangs from your dirt-smudged forehead. The pale flower actually contrasted nicely with your dark hair, and under that mop of a haircut, you had a cute face.

"Did something land on my head?" you said.

"No, no—not really—I just saw some dirt." My fingers traced back along the frame of your face, past the wisps of the serenai. I jolted as my fingertips began oozing blood.

"Ah. Let me see that." You grasped my palm and flipped my hand over, nodding as you saw the cuts. "My hands are too dirty to treat your wound. Sorry." You dug in a pouch by your waist and pulled out a small roll of bandages.

"Uh…thanks." I tore off a piece and started wrapping my fingers.

"The wisps look soft, but they're made of very fine, highly abrasive fibers. I should have warned you earlier," you said.

"Hey, no biggie. It was just surprising, that's all."

You stared into me rather seriously. The sun pouring into the greenhouse lit the surface of your hair like gold.

"I think I remember...its wisps are like that because it's had to develop a defense against animals that might want to eat it. But it's curious...it looks very soft and inviting, like a dandelion," you said. "This was the first plant that came to mind when you asked me, I think, because it reminded me of you."

"What?" I retreated a step, and, realizing what I just did, threw my hands behind my head and gave a chuckle. "You're a strange one, Teach. How on earth did you come to that conclusion?"

"It was a feeling I had. I didn't mean to overstep," you said.

"Think nothing of it. That was a close call, though. I thought we were supposed to get to know each other slowly, rather than trying to pick each other's brains in one fell swoop. Gotta preserve an air of mystery to keep things exciting, you know?"

For some reason, your eyes traveled from mine down to my mouth, then back up again—like that last time.

"That sounds fine, if that's what you prefer," you said.

"Well, in the interest of preserving our precious ignorance of each other, I'm going to go ahead and let myself out. You have fun gardening, okay?"

You nodded, continuing to stare at me as I left. I could feel the weight of that stare getting lighter and lighter with the distance I put between us.

I let out a breath of air as I glanced off to the side at the fishing pond. I had clearly underestimated how observant you were, but I wasn't discouraged. I was going to understand you—in time.

The wind started to pick up, but no matter how much it blew, no waves appeared in the pond. The water rippled and glinted in the sun as tranquilly as before. I couldn't help but remember how the sunlight glinted in your hair, with that flower behind your ear. Well, that'd be a nice look on pretty much anyone, I figured.

As I drew in a breath, I felt a tickle in my lungs. I coughed, and a pale green flower petal blew past my hand and was carried off by the wind.

* * *

**Dusk Stars**

Almyran children who were meant to grow into warriors were eased into killing. I started with feeding animals to Csilla, and then it was hunting animals alongside her. Now, I was to witness the deaths of people.

My father brought me with him on his raiding mission. A large group of fighters were attacking people from Fódlan along one of our borders.

I wasn't to engage in any of the fighting yet, but I had to watch from the rear. A bunch of other kids around my age were there, too. I pleaded with my father not to leave me alone with them, but he scoffed at me.

"Everyone has been telling me that your blood is weak. Do you think that that's true?" he'd ask me, time and again when I would beg him or my mother for help.

I would shake my head, humiliation and anger swelling in my throat.

"Then prove it to them. Fight your own battles, and they won't be able to say those things to you anymore."

On that day, while the adults were busy fighting their enemies, I was getting pinned down by the other kids. A boy was holding down one of my arms, and a girl was holding down the other one while another boy spat on my face.

"Is that all?" I screamed as I tried to kick up at him with my feet. "You're so dumb! You don't have anything better to do?"

"Shut up," he said. "You're a dirty coward. Even if we leave you alone, you're just going to ruin everything for us."

My struggling paused as he drew a small dagger and twirled it in his hand, like some flashy toy. He held it up to my neck as he leaned over me.

"My mother told me that cowards who defect from the Almyran army get executed. I guess that means that you already qualify," he said.

My chest hitched up and down as I tried to speak, my mind going blank. The knife point started digging into my skin. "I admi—I admit it! I am a coward," I said, not even thinking about what I was saying. "I have cursed blood—so go ahead and spill it—I dare you! I'll curse you into being a coward, too!"

The knife froze as he frowned down at me, trying to figure out whether I was lying or not. It was enough, though-the Fódlan army had pushed through to try and target the archers and flyers at the back, near where we were. He and the others sprang away from me and scattered to avoid being too close to the fighting.

I scrambled to my feet as I heard arrows firing and people screaming in pain. The smell of blood had soaked into the air, and as I ran, I put a hand up to my neck to make sure the blood wasn't mine.

I knew that I couldn't outrun any adults, so I started climbing up the rocks of the closest mountain face, sometimes slipping and falling. The adrenaline gave me extra strength to make it up, though, and I eventually settled on a small ledge. My whole body was shaking. I had no reason to believe that the Fódlan soldiers would attack the kids, but I readied my bow and arrow regardless, pointing it towards the ground in case anyone tried to scale the rock face I was perched on. What felt like fifteen minutes had passed, as the noises of fighting and death had swelled, grown sparse, dwindled, and stopped. After a few more moments of silence, I could hear the cries of the other kids as they came out of hiding and wandered about, searching and calling for their parents. I didn't move.

At first, I was scared—well, that's what everyone else would've said. Really, I just wanted to stay alive. Pretty much everyone did, right? The so-called bravest warriors didn't fight like they did because they thought they were going to die—I knew that by now. And I knew another thing: I couldn't survive if I tried acting like everyone else—meeting every challenge man-to-man, face-to-face. They wouldn't let me if I tried.

The boy who'd spat on me had wandered in my field of vision, down below. I hesitated, then leapt off of the ledge I was perched on. As I fell through the air, I drew my bow and fired. The arrow whizzed past his leg, striking the ground. His eyes reflexively shot to the arrow by his feet, and before he could realize his error and look up, I'd landed on top of him.

My knees struck down on his shoulders, and he fell back, knocking his head on the ground. Tears from the shock of the impact got knocked out of his eyes as I struck his nose with the palm of my hand, breaking it.

"You couldn't kill me when you had your lackeys gang up on me. But I've defeated you all on my own," I said as he sputtered and cried in pain. "Spread the word. Tell everyone that the coward is the one who did this to you, and then never touch me again."

I waited for the message to sink in and then stood, the pain from the impact ringing in my knees. With a hand to his face, he ran away.

* * *

Author's note: This is around when the FFN version of the fix will slightly diverge from the AO3 one, because AO3 allows for certain content that FFN doesn't. It's nothing major (I just wanted to add brief lyric quotes on occasion because I like music), but it'll result in a major change for the final story of the fic. Just a heads-up!


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note:

Yeah, I'm starting to realize that a lot of these chapters are kind of downers—I got way into the weeds of angst (greatly extrapolating from personal angst and then projecting it onto characters in fantasy crapsack worlds will kind of...do that to a fic, I guess—but I digress). I would entice y'all with the promise of fluff coming up, but I for the most part can't seem to write fluff without some subtle (or not-so-subtle) angst sprinkled in here or there, so uh...enjoy? I guess? In other words, we're only in the first ring of this hell-circus and I'm the head clown, honk-honk muthafuckas.

CW: Bullying/abuse (not shown), neglect, mention of race-based murder

* * *

**White Clouds**

"You've got quite the curse," said Manuela.

"Uh…really? I'm pretty sure I didn't get struck by any curses lately," I said.

"It needn't have been recent—it could have been cast on you at any point in your lifetime. It's just that you must have only done something to activate the curse recently."

"Well. Lucky me," I said, slipping back into my uniform. Manuela sighed as she put away her instruments. "Uh-oh. That sigh doesn't bode well for me, does it?"

"Things aren't too bad. Of the bona fide curses I've seen—only a few, mind you—your symptoms are by far the most benign. Annoying, I'm sure, and on the…_whimsical_ side…but benign. But like other curses, the magic is so specific that unless we know the exact method in which the curse was originally cast, there's no way to completely get rid of it. The best I can do is alleviate your symptoms if they really start to harm your body. If I were you, I'd also try to narrow down what the trigger might be and then try to avoid it from now on. Okay?"

"Sure—that actually doesn't sound too bad, all things considered. Thanks, professor."

Manuela shook her head. "I really am sorry I couldn't do more. Please do come by from time to time so that I can check up on you."

"I appreciate it," I said as I left the infirmary.

Over the next couple of weeks, I would try to keep track of when my cough got worse, but it was all over the place. At first, I actually thought it might've had something to do with you, because the coughing tended to get worse when you were around. The only thing was that sometimes I coughed a lot when you weren't around, too. Maybe my brain was just making connections where there were none, driven by an urge to get to the bottom of things quickly. False positives, and all that.

Of course, everyone was appalled when they realized literal flower petals were being expelled from my body, which was pretty fair. I wasn't exactly happy about it, either, but I'd already decided to just roll with it. For one thing, hiding my symptoms seemed fairly infeasible, so I made a point of coughing in front of whoever I was talking to, to get the flood of questions over with.

_No, it's not contagious. Yes, I talked to Manuela. No, I'm not going to die. It's not chronic, but it comes and goes._ Well, I did embellish a few things here and there to smooth things over—I really didn't need anyone freaking out over something like this.

The first time it happened in front of you, your eyes widened.

I said, "Ah, I guess I forgot to tell you, huh?"

"I've already heard from some other students that this was happening, but I didn't realize the flower petals were serenai," you said.

"Right," I said, shaking the petals off of my hand onto the classroom floor. "I guess it's fitting, given what you said to me earlier at the greenhouse. Maybe I should've placed more stock in what you said."

"Has it been causing you pain?"

I suppressed another cough. "Nah, it's good. I've found a couple ways to spin this to my advantage."

"To your advantage…?" you asked, slightly frowning.

"Right. For example, people are a lot more willing to let you skip weeding duty if they think you're about to keel over, which gives me more time to do the things I want to do. Plus, I've actually gotten a few laughs out of this thing. The other day, I threw a petal parade for Marianne and Hilda."

"I'm sure Hilda didn't like that."

"Yeah, she ran off and yelled at me that it was unsanitary or something. Marianne...well, she kinda just stood there. I think she was trying to process what was happening—maybe even dissociating a bit. Oh, and then Ignatz popped his head in and asked if he could watch me cough stuff up for a painting of his. Can you believe it? He said something about it being a really nice aesthetic. Really, for such a nice boy, he can be morbid without even realizing it."

You gave a thoughtful pause. "It's strange. You can seem a bit frightening, at times."

"Frightening, huh?" I said jovially. This time, I was prepared for any piercing non-sequiturs you could throw my way. "How'd you get _that_ idea?"

"You're talking about using your ailment, like how one would talk about using a tool. Are you like this with everything?"

My eyes barely narrowed, and I flashed a grin at you. "Hm...I personally don't think so, but I guess you can be the judge of that when you get to know me better."

You scanned my face briefly, then sighed quietly through your nose. "Well, I'm glad you're having fun with everyone, despite everything," you said.

"Yeesh. You're not the monastery counselor, Teach. Where's all this coming from?"

"It just seems like you're always busy. Maybe I should plan something fun for the end of this month, after we've completed our next mission and you're all done with your exams."

"Hey, if you actually follow through on that, then I'm all in!" I said, relaxing my smile. "So what exactly were you thinking of doing? Let's talk details."

As we chatted, I could still see the flower petals I'd put on the floor from the corner of my eye. I swept them away with a graze of my boot, pushing them all aside.

* * *

**Dusk Stars**

I did what I could to keep others away from me. I challenged people to duels and poisoned their water just enough to weaken them, giving me an easy win when it came time to fight. I would make it appear as though I'd won with sheer strength and honor in these one-on-one battles, all in the hopes that this would chip away at the label of cowardice that was branded into my very bones.

In a better world, I wouldn't have wanted to just be left alone. Truthfully, what I wanted more than anything was to be approached, to have someone I could call a friend—but I was okay with being left alone in my current circumstances. I could settle for any shred of begrudging, qualified respect that I could claw out for myself.

Every moment of peace was hard to come by, however. For every harasser or attacker I beat back, another one would take their place. My father emphasized that I had to be fair when I fought back, or else no one would come to respect me. But no one was being fair when they hurt me, whether with stones or with words.

"I'm not here to protect you," my mother said when I approached her one day, nursing a new set of bruises. It was something I'd come to expect from her.

I stared at her unflinchingly. I hadn't come for her help. "Then tell me how you can do it," I said. "Tell me how you can stand living here, when everyone knows who you are and where you came from."

Her brow softened, if only a little. She said, "You just have to accept things as they are. The whole world is this way. Some types of people are hated, and others aren't. You have to toughen up to meet that hate, and beat it down with your fists—make a name for yourself. That's what I did, and what I'll keep doing."

She raised a clenched fist in confidence—a show of bravado that I sometimes admired, and was sometimes perturbed by.

"That—that can't be right. No one should have to keep living this way," I said, pausing as she looked sidelong at me. I could tell that she was waiting for me to say it—to say that_ I couldn't_ keep living this way. I took a breath, and tried again. "You could make your choice to be here as an adult. I'm...I'm a kid. I didn't get to choose who I was, or where I am. So why should I have to do the same things as you?"

"Hm..." she said as she nodded her head from side to side. "It's not like you don't have a point, kiddo. But let me put some things in perspective, here. Do you remember when you asked me why there wasn't anyone else here like you?"

Her usual vibrant demeanor, in all its infuriating indifference, slipped away from her face. This so rarely happened that it filled me with a cold apprehension. When I was younger, I'd hoped, selfishly, that there were others who shared in this isolation of mine—others like me who I could reach out to and care for, and who would care for me, with a level of understanding that had so far eluded me. That old, awful hope felt disconnected and far away, now, as I cautiously regarded her soberness.

"You told me it's because you and father were the first ones from the two nations to fall in love," I said.

My mother shrugged. "I like to think that that's true. But there have been children between people from Fódlan and people from Almyra before in this world's long history. We're somewhat isolated from each other, but not entirely, after all."

"Then...then where are they?" I asked quietly.

"Well...they're very rare, first of all, but...most of them are...done away with."

...Was I horrified by this? Or was I expecting this?

"...You mean that they're killed," I said with clenched fists. "Not 'done away with'."

She said, "Perhaps. Or abandoned—which would surely have the same consequences as murdering them. If they pass fully for one race or another, it's possible that they're raised by only one of the parents, in ignorance of their mixed blood...but that option's almost unheard of. Just think about it—imagine having parents who are just as hateful towards you as their respective societies. It's awful to say, but not all infants born to those parents are born of any love between them. ...But your father and I aren't like that. We care about each other, and we don't care what kind of blood you have."

She placed a hand on my head to ruffle my hair, but I ducked away. I stared down at the floor as I fought to understand the information she was giving me. But what was there to understand? What sense did any of it make?

"Claude," my mother sighed, "it's because your father and I are so strong that you have been allowed to live this long." It was, let's say, a bold claim—but I was too tired to argue that with her. "But that isn't enough on its own. My boy," she reached down to pet my cheek, and I stood still this time, "you must become stronger than both him and I if you want to survive. That's just the truth of it."


	4. Chapter 4

CW: Implied sexual harassment/assault, implied bullying, descriptions of violence, implied biphobia, implied racism; also, if you don't like the teacher-student angle of a lot of pairings with Byleth, some stuff here might rub you the wrong way. The game kinda handwaves that stuff away, and this fic more or less follows suit since that's not one of the focal points of this story.

* * *

**White Clouds**

The night air still had a soft and humid chill to it, but the temperature was dropping every day. Soon enough, there'd be a serious bite to all the cold that would settle in here.

The blanket stuffed under my armpit started falling out, and I had to stop to readjust my grip on everything. I sighed and looked up at the distant sky.

It was strange. The stars hardly seemed to change, even when my surroundings changed. Though I supposed that that was a pretty comforting thought, too. No matter where I was, at least the stars would always be there.

"Hey."

I squinted in the dark at your lumpy silhouette for a solid three seconds before I realized it had to be you from the sound of your voice.

"Teach! I'm relieved it's you I bumped into, instead of…other faculty."

I walked up to you, and your frame started to take shape. You had a pillow and blanket in tow as well, as per our ingenious plan—hence your mildly terrifying silhouette. Right. Of course.

"And what would you have done if it was someone else instead of me?" you asked as we fell in step.

"Probably would've squatted on all fours and pretended to be a deer or something—you know, something effective and logical like that. Huh. What kind of noise would a deer make, anyway?"

The sound of our footsteps echoed on the stone steps leading up to the dining hall.

I piped up, "Uh…Teach? Giving me the silent treatment?"

"No. I was showing you the noise a deer makes."

"Oh... Oh. Ha. …I gotta admit, that joke wasn't one of your strongest," I said as you pushed open the dining hall doors.

There was a soft orange glow and a scurry of shadows inside.

I could hear Lorenz whispering, "Who goes there?" and a shrill shush in response.

"Give us your desserts—or forfeit your life," I rasped. A muffled shriek sounded out. Yep. That was Lysithea.

"Don't worry. It's just me and Claude," you said, shutting the doors behind us, "though I'd understand if you're upset now that Claude's here."

"Ouch. You know, there's such a thing as comedy without cruelty, Teach."

I glanced at Lysithea and Lorenz as they came out of hiding from under the table.

"And you two. What are you doing here already? Haven't you kids heard that for parties like this you're supposed to arrive fashionably late?"

Lorenz straightened his hair. "Nonsense. It is prudent for the nobility to attend such festivities in a timely manner," he said.

"Hmph," said Lysithea. "A truly mature person would be able to show up punctually."

You turned to me. "If they hadn't shown up on time, then we would have been the ones who were too early instead."

"Minor detail." I chucked my pillow and blanket onto the floor and turned my attention to the pantry. "So, what goodies did you nab for us?"

You shook your head. "I didn't take any food. I just prepared extra for this occasion."

"I saw you working hard in the kitchen," Leonie chimed in as she let herself into the dining hall. "You must have been planning this for weeks. Oh, but maybe hide some of the—"

"I smell food!" said Raphael from behind Leonie as he banged the open door—well—even open-er.

"Please, try to be a little quieter," Ignatz pleaded, slipping in after Raphael. "I really don't want us to get into trouble."

I winked at him slyly. "Don't worry! If we're found out, Teach'll tell everyone that he forced us all into this as a poorly conceived bonding exercise, thereby pardoning us from any blame."

"I never agreed to that," you said as the others began arranging the pillows they'd brought in a circle on the floor.

"Again, I cannot reiterate how admirable you are for protecting your students like this," I replied.

Leonie sighed. "Ignore him. We really appreciate you doing something like this for us."

You smiled a bit—something you've been doing more often these days.

"You've all been working hard. I wanted to be able to celebrate the end of everyone's exams for this period," you said.

"So, if you're celebrating, that means we all passed, right?" I asked, opening the pantry door. I located your shelf and started passing out the goods.

"All jesting aside, the professor will tell us our marks when the time is appropriate—though I'm sure I passed with flying colors," said Lysithea between bites of a buttered cookie.

There was a jiggle at the doorknob, and Hilda finally entered with Marianne in tow.

"Hey! I hope you guys saved some food for us," she said.

"Is there any reason why you arrived so late?" Lorenz asked. Hilda took a berry offered by Ignatz and tossed it in her mouth.

"Oh, I just needed to make sure Marianne was coming, that's all."

Marianne gazed down at her feet.

"I'm…I'm sorry. I didn't want to ruin the party," she murmured.

Leonie piped up, "You don't have to stay if you don't want to, but we'd be happy to have you here."

Marianne flinched and looked away. Did a tiff happen between those two recently?

"That's right!" Raphael boomed as he tore into his sixth piece of jerky. "And if you're here, you can help us eat all this food!"

Marianne blushed and displayed a hint of a smile. "Al…alright." Hilda handed her a cookie.

"I didn't actually prepare _quite_ that much food," you said, your eyebrows pinching with concern as everyone tore into the snacks.

I swallowed the mouthful of the gingersnap I was munching on and nudged you with my elbow. "Ah, don't worry about it. Once we finish everything in the next minute or so, that just means we'll have to resort to talking to each other to occupy the time. You know, like social folks."

"Ooh! That gives me an idea!" Hilda said as she sat herself down on one of the pillows. "Everyone, what was your first kiss like, and who was it with?"

I threw my hands in the air. "Here we go."

Lorenz chuckled to himself. "I would be happy to share my tale, for it is a long and most intriguing one. I was but a young lad, and—"

"Nope. Not interested," I said.

Raphael laughed. "When we were really little, I got jealous that Ignatz got an extra piece of cheese in his lunch, so I tried to eat it from his mouth! Does that count?"

"That is…beyond revolting," Lysithea said in shock.

"R-Raphael, no! That's so embarrassing," Ignatz wailed. "And if that wasn't bad enough, Maya laughed at us…"

"She was a toddler! Toddlers are supposed to laugh at everything!"

"Wow. My experiences certainly aren't anything as…interesting as that," said Leonie, eyes still wide in disbelief. "I just vaguely remember some old childhood crush—huh! Feels like a lifetime ago."

Marianne fidgeted with her fingers. "May I…abstain from this conversation?"

Hilda replied, "Of course, silly! Though I am kind of curious, now…"

I shrugged, wanting to keep up the momentum and avoid any awkward pauses. "I'm afraid my story's similar to Leonie's, unfortunately. Nothing to write home about. Which is surprising, considering that it's me."

Inevitably, since you hadn't chimed in yet, everyone looked at you expectantly.

"Ah. Should I leave you all to it?" you said. "I don't know if it's appropriate—"

"Oh, come on. Since when did we give the tiniest hoot over those kinds of formalities?" I said. "In case you're wondering, the answer is 'never'."

"No disrespect, professor," said Lysithea, "but in addition to what Claude said, we don't really think of you as being of—well—of an older nature."

With an exaggerated grimace, I said, "Ooh, having that come from Lysithea of all people? I almost feel bad for you, Teach. Maybe you'll never grow out of that babyface."

Lysithea huffed, "Claude, can you for the duration of this party cease your usual foolishness?"

You looked off to the side—shyly, almost. "To be honest, it's hard for me to answer that question. I don't remember much from my past."

"Hey, you're not trying to wriggle out of the question, are you? You can just say you don't want to do it, you know," said Leonie.

"It's not that," you insisted. "But there's a lot I don't remember about myself, especially with things that happened earlier in my life."

"You mean…you don't remember most things from your childhood at all?" said Ignatz with a frown.

"That's so peculiar!" said Hilda in surprise. "You really don't remember, huh?"

Your gaze was still turned away—I couldn't tell what you were thinking at all. I leaned in closer. "Hm… Do you have any idea why that might be the case?"

"I can remember certain facts and information fairly well…but a lot of specific memories are hard to recall for me. I can't remember how I felt about anything, either. Maybe that has something to do with it?" You placed a hand under your chin in thought. "I don't know when I had my first kiss. But there were hazy, general trends. I think that people would kiss me from time to time to see how I would react."

The candles threw scattered light on everyone's uneasy faces.

"Did they—do you remember if they even asked you?" Leonie said.

"Um…how did you feel about any of that?" asked Ignatz.

Your eyes flicked over the others' expressions. "…I'm not sure. But I don't think I felt a particular way about it."

"I...I guess it's not up to us to tell you how you should feel," said Hilda. "You _would_ tell us if something made you upset, though…right?"

You nodded. "I appreciate it. I didn't mean to distract from the conversation this much, though."

"Speak nothing of it. We are happy to speak with you," said Lorenz.

Raphael beamed. "Yeah, you're always listening to us talk about all kinds of stuff!"

Marianne nodded silently.

"I see. Thank you." You smiled again.

"Two smiles from Teach in one night! I guess this party really was a good idea," I said.

Hilda giggled. "Don't lean forward too much, Claude, or you might fall over."

I caught myself and straightened out a little.

"Oops. Guess I'm a little tired—" I said before having another coughing fit. A few petals fluttered out from my throat.

"Yeesh!" Hilda exclaimed. "That cough sounded awful!"

"It does seem a bit worse from before," Lorenz observed.

I shrugged breezily. "Eh. It comes and goes. Next question, though…mate, date, or altercate, with—hm—Lady Rhea, Professor Manuela, or Professor Hanneman?"

The room erupted with responses:

"Ew! I hate playing this game with you!"

"I wouldn't want to fight with Lady Rhea—I heard she's actually really strong, and I'm not that confident in a fight..."

"I'd date Professor Manuela! I heard that she knows how to cook real good!"

I snickered at the chaos, now able to relax a bit.

Though your face didn't change, you raised your voice above the din—you must've been excited to arrive upon your answer. "I would altercate with Professor Hanneman and Professor Manuela," you said.

"What? You only need to fight one of them," I said, sputtering a bit as I tried not to burst out laughing. Something about the determined way you said that was pretty cute.

"I fought them both off in the mock battle at once, so it would be no problem," you said, and I shook my head with a grin.

"So you just wanted to be able to date _and_ mate Lady Rhea, huh? You sly dog."

You blinked, as though you hadn't considered that implication. Were you just so caught up in fighting the professors that you didn't think of the other options? Well, all the more reason to tease you about it.

Lorenz frowned. "You did not complete the mock battle entirely on your own, professor. You would do well not to get too cocky."

"Phrasing, Lorenz," I said.

"Phrasing? Phrasing of what?" Lorenz asked.

"Having Teach get 'cocky' with the other professors, I mean. Though I won't deny that Teach has a good point about Rh—I mean, Lady Rhea—have you seen those hips?"

"Claude! Cut it out!" Hilda protested.

"Dear goddess, please forgive us for partaking in this conversation…" whispered Marianne.

It more or less went on like that for the rest of the night. I didn't exactly remember everything we talked about, but I thought that everyone was having a good time. It must have dwindled at some point, though, because next thing I knew, you were pulling a blanket over my shoulders.

I blinked and lifted my head—everyone except for you was fast asleep and lay scattered across the floor. You were stepping quietly around the room, making sure that the others had a blanket to keep them warm, too. It was dim now that the candles had burned themselves out, but a pale blue light was starting to permeate through the windows. The scattered, sleepy beginnings of birdsong could be heard, as well.

"Teach," I whispered. Your silhouette paused. There was a dark shadow over your face. "You sleep at all...?"

"I...I was restless," you said, the shadow lifting away as you moved stealthily back towards me. "You should go back to sleep. There's still an hour left before we need to start heading back."

"What 'bout you?" I mumbled, nestling my head back onto my pillow.

"Don't worry about me. I can sleep with my eyes closed."

I buried my face in the pillow, shaking my head. "No...boooo…"

"Hm...maybe I should leave the jokes to Alois...but then again, maybe not," you said, as though thinking aloud.

"What's with the jokes, anyways…?" I said, my face surfacing as I turned back to you.

You paused, glancing away. "...I like hearing you laugh," you said.

I smiled. "Huh...corny..." I said, trailing off as my eyes fell closed. When they opened again, Ignatz was shaking me awake.

"Come on, Claude," he said, throat dry and scratchy. "We're going to get found out if we don't leave soon."

I rubbed the drool from the side of my face and sat up with a stretch. I was pretty used to staying up late or pulling all-nighters when I felt like it—or when my work and research called for it—but maybe that was why my party stamina wasn't what it normally was. Everyone else was exhausted, too. That was the issue with post-exam shindigs, I supposed. The others were gathering up their blankets and pillows, except for Lysithea who was still asleep and being hoisted onto Leonie's back. You were busy scraping the candle wax off the tables and brushing away the crumbs we'd left. I stood and picked up my things as well, and soon enough we were all shuffling back to our rooms.

We made a detour past the first floor dorms to drop off Leonie, who in turn dropped off Lysithea—then up a handful of stairs to drop off Ignatz and Raphael, as well. Lorenz, Hilda, Marianne, and I turned around to go back the way we came.

"Your dorms are a floor up, right? I'll walk with you," you said.

No one protested as everyone lumbered back, moaning and groaning like half-dead demonic beasts or something. As we trickled back down the stairs, your breaths started to get a little shaky and your legs buckled. Hilda and Lorenz each grabbed one of your shoulders.

"Are you alright?" Lorenz asked.

You nodded. "Just worn down. I hadn't slept well in a while."

"Wow! You must have worked yourself to the bone over this," said Hilda. "Are you sure you're in any condition to walk us back?"

"Please…get some rest, professor," said Marianne.

You nodded again, and straightened up from Hilda's and Lorenz's support.

"You all go on ahead," I said, picking up the pillow and blanket you'd dropped and adding them to my pile. "I'll make sure he gets back okay."

"Conducting yourself honorably for once, I see," Lorenz remarked as he and the others departed.

"Feel better, professor!" Hilda said, waving back at us.

With that, I took a deep breath of the morning air to summon all the energy I could.

"Okay. Let's get you to your room and get some water in you, alright?" I ducked under your arm, trying to shimmy it around my shoulders without using my occupied hands. "Although...your room's closer to where we were before, right? Is making me do all these one-eighties some type of training you're secretly putting me through?"

You swayed and pulled away from me. "That isn't necessary," you said, but you were already teetering forward, planting your hands in the grass. You were breathing really hard.

Setting down the blankets and pillows, I went down on one knee to stay at your level. I peered intensely at your face, looking for any indication as to what was wrong. "Hey, what's going on? Are you sure you're just tired?"

You gripped a hand over your temple. "I am tired, but…I've also been seeing memories…I can't stop seeing them, and I can't tell which ones are mine."

"What? Who else would they belong to?" I said quietly as I brushed the hair out of your face. Your forehead was clammy.

"I…I don't know."

"Do you think the reason you don't know is also the reason you can't remember your past?"

"I don't know. That would make sense." You closed your eyes in thought as you turned over and sat down on the stairs. It was typical for you to respond with "I don't know" for lots of questions I asked about you—but this time, I really believed you.

I sat myself by your side. The sunrise had begun in earnest, burning across the horizon like searing metal. That was the thing about Fódlan—the sunrises here were usually orange, instead of pink like in Almyra. Maybe the night sky looked the same in most places, but the sunrises and the clouds could end up looking pretty different.

"Do you remember what I said last night, when I talked about how people tried to get reactions out of me?" you asked.

I sighed. "Of course I do. How could I forget?"

You opened your eyes and leaned your head back to take in the full view of the sky. "I realized that they were upset with me because of how I acted. Because of how I am. And I'm starting to remember that those weren't the only instances of that happening."

"…What else happened?"

"There was…name-calling, pinching, hugging, and things in-between. But there's only one memory like that that stands out individually, vividly—I think it's because it triggered my body's drive for survival. Someone had probably struck me in the head with some blunt object. I remember lying on the floor…it felt like the world was spinning, and a little bit of blood was coming out of my head."

"Teach…"

"There were two people shouting. A man was holding an axe upside-down, and he was pointing at me. I think he was saying something about how I was staring at his daughter. About how I was unnatural, and staring 'the wrong way'. He used the word 'demon'. My father was the other person yelling. He shoved past the man and ran up to me, and he carried me away—probably to a doctor. The wound itself wasn't life-threatening, but the aftermath was—I'd guess that's why I remember this all so well. I threw up a couple times, and the doctor said my brain had gotten knocked around. But it all resolved itself in the end. After that, my father told me not to talk to anyone else if he wasn't there with me, and if it didn't have to do with a mission. Even though this memory is so different from the other ones…when I remembered the kissing, I remembered this too. I think the reasons why those people did what they did were related."

My fingers were gripping the stone beneath me, and I kept staring into the sunrise to keep myself feeling steady. I tried to think of something to say.

We sat in dizzy silence for a few minutes, and you started speaking again.

"I'm aware that I'm not normal, for many reasons. Lately, I've even been wondering if I'm a real person. It seems that other people had been wondering the same thing for a long time. You have, haven't you?"

Tiny stirrings of regret threatened to fill my throat. Part of me wanted to keep looking at the sunrise, to feel secure in its image—but I had to know what you were thinking. I turned to look at you. You were staring down into your lap, and though your face was the same as ever, your entire body was shaking.

"Whoa, hey, hey, hey, hey." I grasped your arms, pressing my hands into the sides of your elbows. "Hey. Hey."

"Then I began to wonder if that's how everyone feels about me, no matter where I go. That's when I started to feel like it was hard to breathe."

"Teach, I want you to look at me, okay? Teach. Teach?" You kept staring down. I could feel your tremors traveling up my arms. "You're good at reading people—I know you are. So look at me. Byleth, look at me."

You raised your eyes to mine—the blue eyes with the ghosts of stars in them. I couldn't read your expression at all, but I realized that I didn't need to.

"I don't care if you're like this for the rest of your life—not anymore. And the others? I'm sure they never cared. You've always been there to listen to everyone, no matter what dumb or embarrassing shit they've had to say. You just threw us all a stupidly fun party. You've protected and guided us all on the battlefield. No one cares."

"It's not that I refuse to show emotion. I can't tell if I even feel emotions," you said.

I shook my head. "Doesn't matter."

After a few more seconds of holding each other's gazes, your shaking had begun to quiet.

"Alright," you said.

I relaxed my grip on your arms, and you pulled them away to prop your elbows on your knees as you leaned forward. You inhaled and exhaled steadily.

Relief emanated from your body and flowed into mine. I took a deep breath through my nose and changed the subject. "I will admit, the weird way your dad raised you is making a lot more sense to me now. I really didn't trust him in the beginning—I kinda got the impression that he didn't care about your well-being at all. But now I can see that it was just the opposite."

"You didn't trust him?"

"Ah, well, it's not uncommon for the students here to have some woebegone story of parental strife—whether they're nobles or commoners. I guess I might've projected that on you a bit, but given how little you knew about Fódlan or yourself, you can hardly blame me."

"I see." You paused. "Would you be one of those students, then?"

"What, like the sad ones with crappy parents?"

You nodded. I looked upwards in a show of being deep in thought.

"My parents and I? We get along as fine as most people. Actually, probably better than most people, judging by all the shitty familial relationships I've heard about here. Though that does remind me…I wasn't being completely honest about my first kiss during the party."

"Why not?"

I rubbed the back of my neck. "Well, it was with a boy. It was one of the few things I did that my parents paid any attention to—and they raised a fuss about it, so to speak, along with everyone else. It was such a hassle that I didn't want to bother with that sort of thing again."

"Why were they upset about that?" you said.

"Heh. Why, indeed? No one cared when I was with a girl the next time. Not that that worked out, either." One of the monastery cats had wandered nearby. I raised a hand for it to sniff, but it scampered away.

"What happened with the girl?" you asked.

"Oh, I won't bore you with the details. She, uh…didn't like the way I looked. More or less," I said.

"Really? I couldn't imagine that being a problem."

I snorted. "Come on, Teach! If you're trying to get me to blush, you'll have to try harder than that." I paused to cough. When I caught my breath, I continued, "That's how it is, though. People can kind of lose their heads when it comes to someone they perceive as being different. We've had this talk before, though, haven't we? You're an outsider, I'm an outsider—that sort of thing."

"…I see."

"I didn't mean to get off-topic or anything. It's just that you shared something personal with me, so I thought I'd return the favor. But...that's enough dismal stuff for one morning. I'm beat, and you must be in an even worse state." I rose slowly to my feet and extended a hand towards you. "Are you good to stand?"

You nodded and grasped my fingers with your own. I felt your weight as you pulled yourself up.

"Thank you," you said.

"For what?" I said with a smile, turning my head to the side to cough more. You glanced at my mouth as I brushed green petals from my shoulder. "Well...let's get going."

I let go of your hand.


	5. Chapter 5

CW: Racism, violence

* * *

**Dusk Stars**

There was no shortage of "opportunities" for me to get stronger. If there was anything I lacked, it was respite.

I had to run one day, clutching at a broken arm while children and adults alike jeered and threw rocks and dirt at the back of my head. The pain and fear I would have once felt was replaced by my loathing for having lost the fight. I'd learned by now that crying my eyes out wouldn't have helped matters—but getting angry and trying again another day—that was useful.

I ran around my home and towards where Csilla was waiting in the back, where I collapsed onto my knees. I leaned my forehead against her chest, gulping for air as I pushed down the bulging heat that filled my throat. She sniffed the top of my head and glanced down at my arm solemnly, keening lowly.

"It's alright, girl," I said. "I'll...I'll be okay. But I won't be able to hunt for you until my arm heals. I'm sorry."

I tried to think. I wasn't sure if my parents would let me find a healer for my arm—their permissions and principles came and went as whimsically as their affections. The surest way was for me to find a healer on my own, without their knowing. Without magic, I doubted that I would be able to get the bone in my arm to set correctly, and if it were to heal wrong, I would be practically doomed. I needed every advantage I could scrounge up to survive.

My thoughts were interrupted by Csilla's growls as she snapped her head around. I looked up in the direction she indicated to see a boy around my age facing me, frozen in midstep.

"Um...hi there," he said, waving a hand and then lowering it limply. There was a bundle of cloth in his other arm. He clearly didn't mean to attack me in any way—so then why was he here? Maybe his friends had dared him to talk to me for a lark, or something.

"Hi," I said, nodding towards him. I tried not to wince. It looked bad, not being able to turn my body around to look at him, but it would've looked equally bad to display my broken arm—there wasn't anything to be done there. "Anything you needed, or are you just passing through?"

"Well, um, neither...I…"

I raised an eyebrow and flashed a smile. Smiles could be very useful for throwing people off, I found. "No need to be shy. If anything, I should be the shy one, right? You're supposed to be braver than I am, after all."

With a grimace, he shook his head and threw his bundle in my direction. Csilla snapped her teeth angrily, but I calmly watched its trajectory as it plopped harmlessly by my feet. Csilla's anger turned to hunger as she sniffed the cloth and started nipping at the folds, trying to unravel it.

"Hang on, hang on," I said, using my good arm to help unwrap it. A couple of dead pheasants tumbled out, which she immediately began devouring.

When I looked up, the boy had gone. I didn't get it. Why go to the trouble of feeding a wyvern that wasn't his? Unless he'd poisoned the meat to kill Csilla, in order to hurt me?

I shoved Csilla's snout away from her food, which earned a growl from her as I tore off a piece of the raw meat and swallowed it down. It was disgusting, but the other kids had forced me to eat worse things before.

I waited, and nothing happened. Any dosage of poison that would be required to fell a wyvern would only take seconds to affect a human. So then...why was I fine?

Okay, so it wasn't poisoned. Or was it a delayed poison?

Csilla impatiently shoved me back away from the food and resumed eating. I wasn't sure how long poison could be delayed, but I doubted a kid that age would go to the effort of making or finding a poison that fancy, especially since I couldn't think of a reason why delaying the effect should be beneficial to him.

If it wasn't poisoned, then...why feed Csilla? Why her, specifically? It was lucky for me, since I couldn't myself—could that have been the reason?

So he knew my arm was broken, and that I couldn't feed her. He must've been a real animal lover, to do something nice for a wyvern that belonged to the likes of me. But the way he was acting towards me was...it wasn't with disdain, but with...what?

I sprang to my feet and started running.

"Hey! Hey, weird boy!" I shouted, trying not to trip over myself as I held onto my broken arm. "Where'd you go? Hello?"

No one my age had ever been nice to me before. What was he thinking?

Going back around to the front of my house, I started sprinting down the road when I saw his retreating back.

"Hey!" I shouted. He jumped and turned around, waving uncertainly like he did before. "What's your name?"

"K-Kalel," he said. "I, um—"

"Hey, Kalel," I said as I caught up to him, "do you wanna be my boyfriend?"

* * *

Ah, childhood—it was a simpler, if more terrible, time.

Don't get me wrong, my parents and I had a lot of fun together—sometimes there'd be laughter, and story-telling, and games. One thing remained clear throughout my life, however. The concern my mother and father expressed for each other was more constant and complete than anything they'd ever expressed for me.

To my mother's credit, the love she had for my father superseded any concern for herself, too. Like me, she didn't have any friends or family here, but she never complained. Heck, she never seemed _ bothered_—as if my father was all she needed. Needless to say, I ended up getting it into my head that romantic love like that was the only love worth having. If my mother didn't need friends, and if my parents didn't need me, then how great could those kinds of love be, anyway? Part of me was probably convinced that I could use that love to save me—to save me from this loneliness that gnawed at me like starvation, if only I could get my grabby little hands on it.

As soon as we started—dating, I guess? Kalel led me to a healer, which was just what I needed. She was an old woman who'd emigrated here all the way from Sreng. Why on earth she'd wanted to travel that far was beyond me, but I looked at Kalel with newfound respect when I realized that he was one of the few people who knew where she lived. Most of the Almyrans kept her at a distance.

She patted us both on our heads as we left her hut. I rotated my arm and flexed my hand open and closed happily.

"Come here if you need magic after—after? No, later," she'd said—at least that's what I could parse out of her thick accent.

I told Kalel that, as my boyfriend, he had to visit me every day. He was sweaty and stammering most of the time I talked to him, so I wasn't sure if he would actually do it—but I waited the next day all the same, next to Csilla in the grass like before, and he came through.

He once again raised his hand weakly in greeting, and I ran up and tackled him to the ground.

"Ah! What—" he said, frightened, as I hugged him tightly. Slowly, he relaxed, and began laughing uncertainly.

It was difficult to believe that someone actually liked me, but here he was. He was real, right?

I'd never seen an Almyran blush as much as he did as we lay side-by-side on the grass, looking up at the clouds and talking as we would for days to come.

"It's cool that you can ride a wyvern," he said one day as our shoulders touched. "They always scared me, but I still think they're cool."

"Csilla isn't scary at all!" I protested, before pausing to think. "Actually, you might be right. But they stop being scary once you learn how to take care of them."

Asleep in a sunny patch some yards away, Csilla huffed through her nostrils loudly, before readjusting herself into a tightly coiled ball. She'd learned to tolerate his presence rather quickly, though I was sure it helped that he kept bringing her meat.

"I guess I'm no good at that kind of thing," he admitted. "The other kids make fun of me because I'm scared of wyverns…"

"Yeah? Fuck 'em," I said, eliciting a gasp from him. "What, I can't say bad words? I'm a bad kid."

I rolled over to look at him, and he avoided my gaze. "I don't think you're a bad kid," he said quietly.

"Oh, really? But what about everyone else? They say I'm bad."

He shook his head, his shaggy bangs swishing to and fro. "They're—I think they're wrong. They say that, but I never see you do bad things."

This was all new. All of it. I couldn't tell if we were arguing or not.

"Why do you even like me, anyway? I mean, I'm—I'm just wondering," I said.

"You...are, um, you're really cool. And you seem pretty smart. But I, uh, I, I like your face."

He liked my face. It was a funny sentence, but I didn't laugh. I sat up and bent my face over his, searching his dark watery eyes, searching, searching—for what? I didn't know.

He looked a little confused, but after a moment, he closed his eyes. I leaned down, pecking him on the lips.

I thought I was in love.

* * *

**White Clouds**

I saw you stride into the infirmary, swiftly and powerfully as though carried by the strength of the ocean. Your mouth was pressed into a firm line.

"Ah, professor! It's good to see you," Manuela greeted, looking up cheerily from her handiwork.

"How is he?" you asked. I waved to you from my cot with a grin, and Manuela pushed my arm back down.

"Stay still, now." She turned back to you. "He'll be fine. Though I understand why you'd be worried, considering how many times he's been in here lately…"

"Hey, Teach. Did you bring me flowers?" I asked. "Actually, I guess there's no need, with my cough and all. I'll just make my own decorations."

Your eyes narrowed. It didn't take a genius to tell that you were upset.

Manuela sighed. "Professor, couldn't the scolding wait until he's better? At least let me finish…"

You nodded silently and remained standing in the middle of the room. Manuela started clearing her throat as you stared at us. After another minute or so, she threw her hands up.

"Okay, I can read the room! Goodness knows, I can't stand any more of this." She stood and gently smacked your arm with the back of her hand. "I pretty much wrapped up, so he's free to go. But go easy, all right?"

"Well, you don't have to go _ that _easy," I said to you with a wink as Manuela left.

"For goddess's sake! No—I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Manuela said, covering her ears and hurriedly trotting away.

"You shielded me," you said, completely ignoring my comment.

"Worked like a charm, didn't it?" I sat up, examining my exposed chest. Manuela really was good at her job—it looked like it wouldn't even scar at this point.

You leaned in, getting a closer look below my right shoulder. There was just a diminished scab where the gash had been. Satisfied with what you saw, you exhaled heavily and shook your head.

"I would have to disagree. _ Shields _are supposed to be shields, not human bodies," you said.

"Aw, and here I was, thinking that you actually liked my plans."

"Claude," you said as I stretched away from you, testing out the muscles and tendons in my right arm and torso, "you're not telling me why you were so reckless in the first place. I would like to know."

In truth, after hearing all your stories from the other night, I'd felt pretty...well, I wasn't comfortable with how similar my behavior was to those other assholes who'd poked and prodded you. Not that my goals had changed at all—it just made things more complicated.

Right before I got my injury, Lysithea had just thanked you for taking a hit that was meant for her, and she was already running off to finish off the attacker. It was something that a lot of the other students had become accustomed to—myself included. You'd deftly handle the first blows, and make an opening for us to go in and attack so that we could gain experience while the enemy was weakened. Everyone was so busy and frantic with the fighting, they didn't even see that you were covered in shallow wounds, and that your grip on your sword was slipping. If any of our enemies had landed another hit...they could have really hurt you.

So, when I saw you getting rushed from behind, it wasn't like I could just stand by. There wasn't any time to draw my sword, though, and firing an arrow at someone sprinting that close-up was messy business. I was fuzzy on the details, but it clearly didn't go well. I could only remember the clouds in the sky tumbling around, and the sound of bone crunching as an axe found a spot right underneath my shoulder. It was a sound I was familiar with, but I wasn't expecting it to come from my own body.

The look on your face as you struck down the thief that did it and rushed over to me...that must've been white-hot rage, so wild and intense that it was unknowable. It was worlds away from the tempered anger that you were now staring me down with.

"C'mon, Teach, there's no need to rub it in. It was a mistake." I coughed up a few petals. "I mean, I've got youthful energy, just like everyone else here. Let's just call it temporary insanity and leave it at that. I'd rather be called crazy than stupid, after all." I opened and clenched my hand, then pulled my arm back, mimicking the motion of drawing a bow. All the pain had gone.

You were about to hand me my shirt, but then withdrew it from my reach as you stared at me.

"Really? You would torment the man that just saved your life?" I asked with a raised eyebrow, placing my arms behind my head. I'd have been lying if I said I didn't enjoy the opportunity to pose in front of you.

"You didn't save my life. All you did was endanger yours."

"Don't take me so lightly. I would never throw my life away like that," I said. After a brief staring contest, I extended an open hand towards you, and you reluctantly gave me my shirt. "I mean it, you know. I wasn't really thinking of it as a life-for-a-life situation—just an I-don't-want-you-to-needlessly-get-hurt situation—that's a mouthful, huh?" Finishing with the buttons of my shirt, I started adjusting my collar. "'Cause, let's be real...just because some people think you don't feel pain...that doesn't mean that that's true. And you've been taking a lot of heavy blows for your students, even though you were probably trying not to have any of us notice. Would it be so bad if someone were to return the favor, every now and then?"

"Ah." You raised a hand to your chin in thought. "So that's what this was about…"

"Don't get me wrong—" I started, turning aside to cough. Green petals burst from my mouth, and I brushed them off the bed. "Okay, well, the thought may have crossed my mind. But I assure you, the specific way things turned out was an accident, pure and simple. You don't have to worry about me throwing myself into harm's way like that again."

You held my cape up, and I took it from you. You hesitated as my fingers glided past yours. "Do I have your word on that?" you said.

"Sure. And you know my word is gold," I said, winking while I buckled my cape to my front. I hopped to my feet. "Sorry, but you know how busy I am. I gotta run."

You stepped to the side as I started to leave, shaking your head. You said, "I hope you mean that. It's my job to protect my students, and...I wouldn't want to lose my first real friend."

I stopped for a moment, looking straight ahead.

"First 'real friend', huh?"

I could see into Professor Hanneman's office from across the hall. Months ago, I'd rummaged in there after I'd returned to Garreg Mach from my roundtable, trying to find any notes he had on your Crest after you got the Sword of the Creator. If I were to tell you everything that I'd thought and planned...how would you have responded? Would you have pushed me away, like everyone else? Would you have been hurt?

"Well. I wouldn't want that either," I said.

I kept walking.


	6. Chapter 6

CW: Biphobia, abuse

* * *

**Dusk Stars**

'C'mon! You're not going to join in?" Nader called out to me.

I shook my head as I ate more from my plate. I was sitting at a table just outside of Nader's home, under the night sky. As far as feasts went, I knew that this one was particularly measly. He was dancing with three of his friends around a fire as they whooped and shouted freely—those were the only people he could get to show up with me around. He said that he asked them not to be "jerks", but despite his optimism, I clearly wasn't welcomed. His friends were doing their best to ignore me, though it was nice that they weren't going after me or anything.

Being able to eat yummy food and feel safe...despite everything, that was an amazing feeling. And I was enjoying being able to watch Nader and the others dance. Maybe I'd practice some moves on my own, later.

After a time, Nader peeled away from the others and strode up to me.

"What's up, kiddo? I didn't take you for a wallflower," he said. Under all that sweat, he stunk like a giant foot. For the first time in a while, I smiled involuntarily.

"Your friends just...don't seem comfortable around me," I said.

He patted me on the back, which all but bowled me over. "They just need some time to warm up to you," he said jovially. "Heck, it was the same for me! At first, I didn't think you could handle any real training 'til your mom gave me a good pummeling—but I tell ya, if I saw her again, there's no way I'd lose this time!"

"No way you'd what?" my mother asked from behind him.

His eyes practically bulged out of his head as he turned around. "Ah! Your majesty! I, uh...I need to use the bathroom—'scuse me!" Giving a stilted nod, he hurried away.

"Honestly…" My mother shook her head with a hand on her hip.

"What are you doing here?" I asked as she reached down to tousle my hair.

"Your father and I needed to talk to you about something. Come on."

Was this a lecture? My parents almost never resorted to anything like that. I set my plate down and followed her back home, where my father was waiting.

As I sat myself down in front of both of them, my mother asked, "So, who is Kalel?"

"He's...my friend," I said, hesitating at the serious looks on their faces. The only way for them to know his name was if someone else told them. If someone else told them, it meant that word had gotten out about us, somehow.

Nodding slowly, my father responded, "Right. But do you care for him? In the way that your mother and I care for each other?"

Looking back on it later, I'd realize that I didn't—but I nodded, anyways. They must've already surmised as much, because they weren't surprised at all.

"Having a split heart...I wonder if it has anything to do with your split inheritance, as well…" my father wondered aloud.

"A split heart? Is that some kind of condition?" I asked.

"It...means that your soul is cut in two. One half that loves men, and another half that loves women," he explained.

"But...I don't feel split at all."

"That doesn't matter," he said, shaking his head. "You're free to make your own decisions, as always. We just wanted to tell you that you'll be getting yourself into a lot of trouble if you keep seeing that boy."

I was about to jump out of my chair with some choice words, but my mother cut in. "We say this for your own benefit," she said. "People here say that having a cut soul can weaken it—that _ 'split-hearted' people _ are weak. You don't have much going for your reputation as it is."

Fury thrashed inside me, but I subdued it, controlled it, coiled it like a hot ball of metal and kept it at the bottom of my stomach. Did every manifestation of difference need to be despised or derided?

"Well, what if I just run away?" I muttered.

"Where? To Fódlan?" my mother asked. I couldn't tell if she was challenging me or not—I didn't answer. I'd been thinking about going there for a while, but this was my first time admitting it to either of my parents. "There'd be pros and cons, honestly. They don't have a word for 'split-hearted' people there, for one thing, probably because Crests and nobility are just about all those idiots care about. So long as you marry well, you can act however you like in secret. But trust me, actual relationships between two men or two women aren't the norm there—it's harder to pop out Crest-bearing heirs that way, for starters—so people like that are usually ignored. It's up to you if you'd prefer that kind of life or not."

"Besides that, running won't solve anything," my father said. Of course it wouldn't. To be equal in the eyes of the others, I had to prove I was strong, stronger, the strongest—nothing was enough. "If you're smart, you'll act like this…'friendship' never happened. The others won't forget this for some time...but they will eventually forget."

They could forget something like that? But how could they, if they never forgot about my blood, about the part of me from Fódlan? What—because it was something that they couldn't see, they could just deny it so easily?

To conceal part of myself...I'd never had that option before. It should have come as a relief that I even had a choice this time, but then...why was I so angry?

Like usual, I tried to pay little mind to what my parents had said. I at least wanted to tell Kalel about it and see what he thought about it, first.

The next day I waited for him like I always did, but he didn't come. A couple explanations came to mind, but there was no point in speculating. Once the sun tilted away from its midday apex, I hopped to my feet and began looking for him.

It occurred to me that I didn't really know where to look—I'd never seen where he lived, or anything like that. I started at the hut of the Sreng woman, and of course he wasn't there. The next step was to comb the city, as difficult as that would be. I poked down every street systematically, hoping that he'd catch sight of me.

After a couple of blocks, I noticed that something was wrong. The others who were out on the streets weren't shouting at me, following me, throwing things at me—nothing like that. Instead, they were just staring and whispering.

Taking a deep breath, I mustered some courage and approached a girl who was among them. She stopped her gossiping immediately and backed away, and an old man inserted himself between us and jabbed my shoulder with a cane. It hurt, but I kept my face blank as I backed off.

"Has anyone seen Kalel? A kid around my age with a messy haircut?" I said. Someone began hocking up mucus, and I ducked as spit flew past my head.

"Don't touch him, or else he might get the wrong idea," someone said.

So this was how it was going to be, huh? So be it.

I squared my shoulders and walked right into the crowd, forcing them to step away from me to avoid touching me, and continued in my search.

It was evening when I thought I saw his retreating back in the distance. It looked like he was heading back home from the market, with a couple of bags in tow.

"Kalel," I called out, but he didn't slow down or look my way. Was I mistaken?

I started running towards him, and he began walking faster. By the time I'd nearly caught up, he'd begun running, too.

"Kalel," I said insistently. He pivoted to the right, but stopped running as soon as I reached out to grab his arm. He didn't resist, but he still wouldn't look at me. "Kalel, why are you ignoring me?"

After a minute of silence, he finally spoke. His voice was hoarse. "We can't be friends anymore. Please leave me alone."

"Why not? You were still my friend when everyone was calling me a coward. How is it different now?" I asked levelly.

He shook his head. "No one knew I was your friend then. Now they do."

It was so obvious, but it hadn't occurred to me until then. I stared at him numbly.

"I just...want to hide," he continued. "I...you're braver than me."

"Maybe I am," I said as the words began spilling forth, thick and hot and pained—everything that I'd denied, everything that I'd pushed away. "But I'm not stupid. I'm not strong enough on my own to get them to stop. I...I just want them to stop. But I can't hide like you—not because I'm brave, but because I don't have a choice. I _ want _ to hide. But everyone knows who—_what _I am. And now they know what I am all over again. Don't...don't leave me to fight them alone…!"

He was shaking.

I stared at him before I realized that I'd tightened my grip, digging my nails into his skin. I let go of his arm.

"...You're selfish, Claude," he said.

He ran away into the night.

Crickets stirred in the warm, dry air, composing and keening as I sat there in the middle of the road, looking up at the starry sky.

* * *

**White Clouds**

I had to admit, I wasn't too fond of the Church using the ball to distract from the dangers that seemed to be lurking around every corner. Morale was important, sure—but to prioritize morale over everything else just seemed foolish.

I returned to my plans with renewed zeal—I had to, to make sure that the wildcards like the Death Knight were all accounted for. That being said, it was hard for my mind not to wander now and then, in the spare moments between practicing for the White Heron Cup, my plans, and my studies. I found myself wondering if faculty were going to participate, and if we were allowed to wear anything a little nicer than what we normally did from day-to-day. You would have looked cute with a tightly-fitted black-and-gold ensemble, and with a flower tucked in your hair…

The Church was quick to announce that we were only to wear either our uniforms or our evening wear during the ball, however—no doubt to avoid students violating the dress code left and right. I knew I would have, at least, so it wasn't an unfounded concern.

All things considered, the month went by in a blur. I'd been in the worst of both worlds—I was too focused on my work to fully enjoy the excitement that had suffused the air, but I was too distracted by said excitement to really get everything done that I'd wanted to. Before I knew it, I was standing in the reception hall with everyone else, watching Edelgard and Dimitri do their due diligence in leading the other students in the dance. It was probably expected that I do the same, since I was a house leader as well, but I couldn't think of many people I would legitimately want to dance with.

So, when I saw you among the crowd, I all but jumped at the opportunity to dance with you. Perhaps I could enjoy myself _ and _get some important information out of tonight. I took your hand and led you to the dance floor, where I placed your hand on my waist and then put mine on your shoulder. I wanted you to lead.

Your face was inscrutable, as it often was—though less and less often, I was finding. Were you becoming more expressive, or was I getting better at reading you?

"I thought you would have been all danced out by now," you said as we fell in step.

"You put me through all the trouble of learning these frilly dance moves, so why not actually use them for something?" I said.

"You won the White Heron Cup. That's something."

"Sure, sure. That was for competition, though. What's the point of dancing if you're not having fun?" I leaned forward and dipped you, with the same motions that you had me practice before. I fumbled it a bit since you were in the leading position, but it turned out pretty okay. Like always, you were heavier than expected.

"That was alarming," you said when you returned upright.

"Don't be so dramatic—er, wait. Was it really that bad?" My voice turned from congenial to offended, only to realize my fatal mistake as you smiled at me.

"Just kidding," you said as you dipped me in turn, the chandeliers on the ceiling spinning above my eyes as your face leaned down to mine.

In truth, this was what I was wanting all night, but I'd been so unguarded that the blood all rushed to my head—or was that just gravity?

All too soon, you lifted me back up, and my feet were on the ground again.

"Was that too much? I was trying to take a leaf out of your book…" you said as you took note of my flushed expression.

"...Heh. If you keep doing that, I won't have any leaves left for myself," I said, smoothing over my voice so that you wouldn't hear any cracks in it.

As the world returned to normal, I could hear some giggling—it was from some of the students that had been watching us.

"What is Claude doing? He's so funny," one of them whispered.

"More like stupid. Even if _ we _know he's kidding, he's putting his reputation at risk," someone else said.

"Claude, stop messing around! Some of us actually want to dance with the professor for real!" a girl called out.

The smallest taste of bitterness crept up my throat as I flashed a smile at them. It was the taste of a bitterness I'd known very well.

"Just ignore them," you said, gently leading me away as I tore my eyes away from them.

We spun across the floor, past Edelgard and Dimitri—who gave no indication of noticing us, though I was sure that they did. They were dancing rather close to each other as well. Was Dimitri going to act on those awkward feelings towards Edelgard that I suspected he had? Regardless, they were both better at hiding their true emotions than I thought. I reminded myself to keep better tabs on them once the ball was over.

"Are you...having fun?" you asked tentatively. Your eyebrows were slightly lowered, as though with worry.

I finally focused back on you. "Right, sorry. I was just…" I could feel the heat from your hand on my waist. "Things were falling out of my mind bowl, that's all. Don't worry about it."

"Were you still thinking about what those other students said?"

I sighed. "Well...yes and no. But that doesn't matter. You know that this is no joke," I said, winking at you, "don't you?"

My wink turned into a grimace as someone stepped on my foot. The dance floor was getting more and more crowded as the shier students began dancing as well.

"Are you alright?" you asked.

"Yeah. I think we're just running out of room. Maybe we should take a break from the dancing—unless you're willing to carry me over everyone else."

Your hands pressed into my ribs as you plucked me up from the ground, lifting me up as easily as if I were a stray cat.

"Whoa! What are you—" I said, reaching my hands down to your shoulders to steady myself as you started spinning me around. "Byl—Teach!" As my legs swung past the other dancers near us, they ducked away and shot us dirty looks. Laughter started bubbling up from within me, and soon enough I was guffawing loudly. "Teach, you don't really have to! I was just kidding!"

I bumped into you as you lowered me back down. I was dizzy, and I had to lean against you as I kept laughing.

A funny-looking smile had bloomed across your face.

After I had a minute to catch my breath, I shook my head. "I keep forgetting how strong you are," I said, "but I guess I shouldn't anymore. After all, you are a remarkable individual."

"You're starting to sound like Professor Hanneman," you said, returning to a neutral expression.

"Hey, I'm not that bad! It's just pretty hard to ignore the facts at this point. You're pretty special. I mean, that sword of yours—you swing it around like it's no problem, even without its Crest Stone."

I noticed that we'd stopped dancing.

I continued, "Does it feel off when you use it? Or does it still feel complete, even with its Crest Stone missing? Oh, and stop me if this is boring to you. I'm sure a lot of people have been asking you stuff like this. I just couldn't help my curiosity."

You stared in my direction, but it seemed like you weren't looking at me at all. Instead, it looked like your attentions were turned inward, like they often were when broaching topics of this nature. I wondered if I'd been too deliberate in my interrogation.

"I...don't…" you began to say, when a dark-haired girl with a fashionable hat stepped between us.

"My apologies if this is a bad time, but...I sensed you were taking a break from dancing," she said towards me with a sing-songy voice. "Mind if I step in?"

"Ah. By all means, go ahead," I said graciously. After all, it'd look strange if I had you all to myself for the whole night...though I had to admit that my enthusiasm for the ball waned once you were whisked away.

I tried dancing with some of my other friends. Hilda was happy to dance, of course, while Ignatz seemed too embarrassed, being much happier to just observe everyone else. Lysithea outright refused, probably because she was still mad over one of my many jabs at her age. I didn't even try to pry Raphael away from the snack table, though we had a nice chat over the food. Leonie wasn't too interested at first, but ended up having fun once she gave it a whirl, and I thought I'd caught a glimpse of Marianne hiding behind Hilda at one point, though I wasn't able to spot her for the rest of the evening. And despite the embarrassing zeal with which Lorenz was prancing about, he was indignant when I tried to give him a spin. It was what one might have expected—and, if I was being honest with myself, I wouldn't have had it any other way.

Still, I felt a mounting restless energy the longer I felt your absence. I wasn't able to get another dance with you, and there were so many students vying for your attention that I couldn't even see where you were for a while. Without someone to bounce ideas off of, it was hard not to grow acutely aware of the stifling _ nobleness _of the whole event, for lack of a better word, so I ended up stepping out to get some fresh air. I ended up wandering into the Goddess Tower to satiate my curiosity about the place, since I figured that looking at the night sky all by myself would feel a little depressing right now.

I wasn't expecting to bump into you there, although I should have realized that you must have disappeared from the reception hall after being swarmed by those students. While we spoke, I tried talking more about myself this time, instead of pestering you with questions. I wasn't one hundred percent positive, but I thought that maybe you were enjoying yourself again. As I started to return to the reception hall, I asked you to save me a dance—there was a part of me that really wanted you to come back and dance with me again, but I certainly wasn't going to drag you back myself.

When I returned, I was feeling refreshed from my conversation with you. I abandoned the stiff paired dancing steps that I'd learned, and started dancing the way I knew how—the way I danced in Almyra. It was a little ballsy, but I wasn't anticipating anyone recognizing my movements. Heck, I would have bet that a lot of people never considered if Almyrans danced at all.

Typically, Almyran women would dance from their stomachs, while Almyran men would focus on their arms, especially their elbows—I danced with both styles, since I found them equally fun.

"Yes! That is what I am doing the talking about!" exclaimed a student with a tattoo on her face as she pointed at me. I'd seen her around before—she was the princess from Brigid, if I remembered correctly. She began doing her own kind of dance as well, which involved some impressive jumps and hand formations—it admittedly didn't go with the music at all, but it wasn't like my dancing matched any better.

The dark-haired girl that had danced with you earlier smiled and tried to dance with the Brigid girl, attempting to copy her movements, and a blue-haired kid started punching the air and screaming next to them.

"That's not a dance move, Caspar!" someone scolded.

Edelgard looked back at the commotion, and covered her mouth as she half-grimaced, half-giggled at the others. The warmth in her expression indicated that they were all friends—the others must have been Black Eagles students as well, then.

The chaos began rippling throughout the room as many students began dancing to their own beats.

A blonde girl was staring at the boy named Caspar and said, "I see—if the others are using this as an opportunity to train, then I shall as well!" She pulled out a javelin—I had no idea where she'd been keeping that—and was quickly joined by Leonie, who was also eager to squeeze training into even the strangest of activities.

"Ingrid, please! Not in here," Dimitri said in dismay when he caught sight of her. It looked like the ripples had reached the Blue Lions house, too.

Another blonde girl and an orange-haired girl clasped their hands together and started hopping up and down to the music, something that I was pretty sure didn't constitute an actual dance, but was pretty cute nonetheless. Meanwhile, Lorenz and a ginger boy who gave off a similar aura began cutting loose, in a way that I could only describe as being wonderfully unfortunate. Soon enough, pretty much every student had joined in the fun.

I honestly couldn't have anticipated that everyone would start doing their own thing in such an odd fashion, but it just went to show how many moving parts there were among this year's class. There was something nice about it all, though. Amidst all the others, I could dance without worrying about anyone thinking that I was strange. I closed my eyes for a moment. I felt the air rush past my arms, the pulsing feeling of gravity as I swayed my head, and the strength building in my stomach as it shifted forward and backward. I couldn't remember the last time I was able to dance around other people like this.

When I opened my eyes, I saw you'd entered on the other end of the reception hall, and were now staring at me. My heart gave a little hop. Had you been running? Your cheeks seemed a little flushed, for once. I smiled and was about to wave you over when a group of students ran up to you. You looked at the students that were crowding around you, and then you looked blankly at the ones on the dance floor as they jumped, undulated, and flailed about. I could only imagine what you were thinking as you tried to process what was going on. After speaking a few words to the people clustered around you, you backed away and left the hall.

Sure, I was disappointed, but I shouldn't have been. I stopped to cough as I realized that, really, I shouldn't have expected you to come back at all. You'd lived your whole life as a mercenary, so of course you'd never experienced any type of gathering like this. It only made sense that you'd be overwhelmed.

I palmed my forehead as it hit me—I'd never even asked you if you wanted to dance at all. I wondered if _ anyone _had bothered to ask you.

Seteth's voice broke me out of my reverie as he struggled to be heard over the commotion and music.

"Silence—silence, please! ..._Enough_!" he shouted. Everyone's movements stuttered to a halt as we all looked his way, and the musicians lowered their instruments. "Dancing for enjoyment is one thing, but using violent movements, let alone bringing actual weapons into the reception hall, will not stand!"

That Ingrid girl slowly lowered her javelin, blushing furiously. Leonie, who was still standing next to her, sheathed her dagger with disappointment.

"Now, you are all to dance calmly, or not at all. It is much too crowded in here for people to be punching and kicking without posing a danger to others, especially to our newer students," Seteth said, allowing his demeanor to grow a bit softer. He paused to wave at Flayn among the crowd, and the poor kid turned redder than a Morfis plum.

With a nod, Seteth motioned for the musicians to resume their playing. Slowly and awkwardly, the students began pairing up again to go back to ballroom dancing.

I wiped the sweat from my forehead as I walked away from the dance floor. I grabbed a glass of water from the snack table, wondering just where you went—to your quarters to retire for the night, perhaps? Whatever the case, I knew that you wouldn't be coming back.

I felt pretty silly. There was no reason to be so concerned over something as trivial as this. But, on the other hand, it would be equally silly to continue denying how I really felt.

Things were different now from how they were before. It wasn't just about whether you trusted me anymore—I'd started to care about whether you liked me or not. I wanted you to want to get to know the real me.

There was more, though, that I couldn't put to words if I tried. It was something fathomless and unknown: like you, but also not like you. You were part undiscovered mystery, and part...friend. Yes, a dear friend—and those parts seemed irreconcilable. But I of all people should've realized that that in itself wasn't so strange. A person could go on living just fine, feeling cohesive and whole, even when others might assume they must be feeling separate, split apart, conflicted. Maybe I just needed to wait until you felt ready to tell me more about it—about you, and about the parts of you that I hadn't gotten to know yet.

As I thought things over, I found myself wandering outside again. This time, I did end up looking at the stars alone. For some reason, though, everything felt fresh and new.

In the soft darkness of the night, I smiled a little at myself when I realized I'd accidentally carried the glass of water with me this whole time.


	7. Chapter 7

CW: Hate crimes, graphic descriptions

* * *

**Dusk Stars**

For as long as I lived, I would never find out who did it.

A "real" Almyran warrior would get to grow up and die next to their wyvern.

The message was loud and clear. I wasn't a "real" Almyran.

Her mouth was parted, and her tongue rested loosely on the grass, which was encrusted with her blood. Her eyes were open, staring innocently into the sky. Giant slashes crossed her neck and chest.

I tried to run, but I fell—everything was spinning. I started crawling forward, scrambling and falling over myself until I reached her. I wrapped my arms around her head and buried my face into hers. Sobs afflicted my body. I wanted the rest of the world to disappear.

"I love you, Csilla. I love you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry…"

* * *

**White Clouds**

I wasn't sure I'd ever seen so much rain before. For days, it just wouldn't stop. It wasn't the stormy kind of rain that came with wind or thunder, but the painfully gentle rain that permeated everywhere...the kind of rain that could follow a person.

I felt it at my heels everywhere I went. It clung to my skin and hair and clothes. It shuddered in my eardrums, even when I was holed up in my room or trying to study in the library.

"Just shake it off," I found myself thinking. I wanted to keep moving. After all, that was what the rest of the world was doing, for better or for worse.

However, as long as the rain persisted, so did the memory of you bent over in that rain, weeping.

Before, I would have toyed with the idea of whether or not you could cry. Now...well.

I had to hide that memory of you away—somewhere behind me, where it could drown quietly, in the same place where I hid everything else. I didn't want to have anything slowing me down, and this was a crucial time for gathering answers. Who was Monica, really? Where did these people come from, and how would they play into the future of Fódlan? As if all that weren't enough, my cough kept getting better and worse, seemingly at random.

One time, it got particularly bad. I was at your door—I was going to knock to check up on you, but I felt that the timing was too soon. I wanted answers—I needed answers—but I also wanted something else. And I didn't want to get any funny ideas about protecting you, or do something that I'd regret. As I walked away from your quarters, I leaned against the wall to cough and hack, until my chest and stomach felt like they'd been turned inside out. When I looked at the ground, I saw that the serenai petals that had come out weren't green and smooth like before, but white and wispy, with smudges of blood.

Right—the mature petals of the flower were abrasive. I remembered that much. What it meant, though, that the petals were in their white form, I had no clue.

I ran the rest of the way back to the second-floor dorms, not wanting to spend any more time in the rain.

It didn't do much good, though. I was soaked.

* * *

**Dusk Stars**

My parents kept visiting the door to my room. They'd try to open it without asking, and always found it locked.

My mother would tell me to pick myself up, to go out and train—but despite these admonishments, she never pressed the issue. It didn't sound like her heart was in it like it normally was. Since she didn't know what it was like to have a wyvern of her own, she was probably being extra cautious about the whole thing. My father, on the other hand, did have a wyvern, and he was furious.

"Didn't I tell you? And you didn't listen. We stopped punishing you because we know there's no point. You never listen, and these are the things that happen," he shouted through the door at one moment. At another moment, he shouted, "Whoever did it, I'll have their head. You can use them for shooting practice, I promise you that!"

I didn't really see what the point of that would be. Nothing could change what had happened, and the people who did it really could've been anyone. What I really wanted was to just have her back...but in lieu of that, what I wanted was to know how to move on. The trouble was, I didn't know anything.

When I finally opened the door to my room, my parents must have heard, because they came walking briskly up to me. For just a moment, I was pulled into a tight hug as my chin got pushed into my mother's shoulder, my nose into my father's shoulder just above hers. I felt uncomfortable.

As my father clapped my back and my mother patted me on the head, I smiled for them. I didn't really know what else to do.

I tried to speak, but couldn't. I hadn't spoken in days.

* * *

**White Clouds**

I was relieved when you gave me your father's diary. It admittedly would've hurt if you'd tried to hide information about who you were from me, especially after everything we'd gone through together. I wanted to hear it from you—that you would be alright with letting me in. I wanted to understand the situation we were in. I wanted to feel like I understood you. Your pain, your isolation, Jeralt's death...I wanted to know why it all had to happen.

As I was reading through the pages, however, I could hardly make sense of what was on them. The circumstances of your birth were still shrouded mostly in mystery, though from what little was said about it, it seemed fairly ominous.

The hours passed as I scoured the pages for meaning, until the moonlight began to fade from my window. My finger paused on a page with a batch of later entries. They were about you.

_Day 3 of the Verdant Rain Moon. The sun is shining. There are some clouds._

_We completed our first mission together. It was his first time killing. I regret it already, but it's not far from the life he would have had under the Knights. Above all, it's important that he's able to grow strong and protect himself. I'm hoping to live even longer still to be there for him, but it's becoming clearer to me that he's going to be okay. He's already grown so tough, I can hardly believe it. Where did the years go?_

_Day 8 of the Verdant Rain Moon. The sun is shining._

_His first time telling me that he loved me. I wonder where he got the idea to say that now? As unexpected as it was, I'm glad. This is the least weary I've felt in a long time._

_Day 10 of the Verdant Rain Moon. All is cloudy._

_He's still been asking about meeting other people, though less now than before. He always obeys now if I tell him to stay inside, which has me relieved. I still remember those days he'd go missing, only to turn up hurt. Even in instances where I couldn't find any wounds on him, he'd act more distant than usual. He wouldn't even speak when I spoke to him. Those were the days that worried me the most. I'm sure she would chastise me for forcing him into such a lonely life, but I can't think of any other way to keep him safe._

_Day 14 of the Verdant Rain Moon. It's partly cloudy._

_He's an unusual kid, but he's a good kid. That, I know. He took the time to bring me some flowers today. I couldn't help but think of her. He looks a lot more like his mother than me, though maybe that's a good thing. I'm hoping he comes out of his battles with far less scars than I have, anyways._

The entries went on, and I couldn't stop reading them. Despite your father's curt way of writing, I could picture you vividly, as though you were right in front of me. I even found myself retracing my own memories alongside the stories of your childhood as I looked at the dates of each entry. Before I knew it, I'd read the whole thing—up until after you'd met me and started teaching here.

_Day 26 of the Red Wolf Moon. It's drizzling, but the sun is shining._

_He's been showing emotions in ways that I'd never seen before he met the brats. In my surprise, I let some stupid things slip. I'll have to tell him everything I know as soon as possible. It would seem that it's about time, anyway. And besides that, I'm happy for him. He's at his most talkative when he's talking about those brats to me_—_especially that house leader of his._

That was the last entry. I wrapped the diary in paper and tucked it under my pillow as I sank into my bed. What was I to make of all this? I was hoping for answers I could use to make informed decisions about our enemies—to even save lives down the road as we were to inevitably face them. Unfortunately, I didn't end up finding anything I could use to those ends.

But I'd gotten to know more about you. This diary was more valuable than I'd anticipated—the information it held would be useful to few people, but it would be precious to you. It showed just how much Jeralt cared about you.

I felt awash in gratitude that you'd given it to me. Gratitude and...some other strange feeling. One that was neither happiness nor sadness. Or maybe that was just me getting into my own head, which felt like pounded mush by this point. Closing my eyes, I finally succumbed to my exhaustion.

As I fell asleep, the images of you in your solitude lingered on the backs of my eyelids.


	8. Chapter 8

CW: Implied neglect, racism

* * *

**Dusk Stars**

In the weeks after...after it happened, I spent a lot of time training. I wanted to focus on other things, too, but it was difficult. In the very least, I could make a public appearance and give off an impression of being unaffected. I visited Nader often for sparring sessions, and I'd show up at his place even when he wasn't there.

From now on, I wasn't going to give anyone the satisfaction of making myself disappear.

That didn't make things easy, of course. Everyone already knew why my wyvern was missing, and people loved to gossip. Every time I felt a shadow come over me, I'd fire my arrows straight ahead at the targets Nader'd hung up all over his training grounds. When I worked on my swordsmanship, I even practiced grunting and shouting to guide my movements, trying to get a handle over my words and voice again.

My voice was lower and scratchier than I'd remembered. I was starting to sound less like a boy, and more like something distantly approaching adulthood.

Right...I wasn't going to be a kid forever. But what did I want to do with my life? Where did I belong? Eventually, I'd be able to choose those things for myself, but I hardly knew where to start. Every time I tried to envision my next steps, things would get clouded. I'd lose myself in remembering that day.

I wondered what hour it was that it happened. Whether she was scared, or in pain...

I paused in the middle of archery practice as my targets grew blurred. Was the memory of that day still going to haunt me? What would it take to be free of this feeling?

As I wiped the tears from my eyes, I saw something move out of the corner of my eye. Then I heard giggling. A girl stepped out from behind one of Nader's training dummies, grinning at me. I regarded her coldly.

"Hey! I don't suppose you're here to help me practice," I said, giving a grin in return. I'd drawn my bow as though to continue my training, but I kept the arrow unreleased.

"No, no. I just wanted to say hi," she said breezily. "You can put your bow and arrow down. I'm not like the other Almyrans."

She was acting coy, but she had to be really proficient to sneak up on me. I released my arrow, and it thunked loudly into a target hanging above her head. I drew another one and strung it.

She tsked, tossing her hair. "What, are you trying to act all tough and scary now? After I just saw you crying like a baby?"

Like a baby, huh? Did she somehow not know of my situation? She must've been left out of the loop. "I just like multitasking," I said with a shrug. "So, how can I help you?"

"You sure you're not the one who needs help? Crying by your lonesome and all?"

"Why, are you offering any?" I released another arrow. Thunk. It sunk in right beside the previous one.

She tucked her arms behind her back, in that cute sort of way. The shape of her body was barely visible under her clothes. "Well, you could talk to me instead, for starters."

Her dark hair hung freely and untied, which was unusual for girls her age. She tossed it aloft again, draping it over her shoulder, toying with it like a fox playing with its own tail. I lowered my bow, keeping it strung.

"I'm Nera," she said, looking encouraged.

"I'm—"

"Claude. I know that, obviously. That's such a funny name, isn't it! I guess you're unlucky that your mom got to name you. Clawd. Clode. Clad. Clod. Hah! Clod! Like, you know, the word—"

"Yeah. Never heard that one before," I said under my breath.

"My, aren't we sarcastic," she remarked all wide-eyed, putting her hands on her hips. "You know, you're not like how I thought you'd be. You're almost kind of fun. See ya!" Tossing her hair again, she flitted off as abruptly as she'd come.

I drew my bow upright and fired at my target like before. I missed.

She'd show up from time to time over the next few months, interrupting my training with a cute hop and a skip, and a mouthful of thorns and irony. We fell into a routine of this kind of back-and-forth, and I started having some fun with it. The fact was that we grew comfortable trading barbs on the regular, so much so that her more invasive questions almost blended into the usual teasing.

_Since you're half-Fódlan, will you only grow half as tall as an Almyran? Is your favorite food bread? Well of _course _I'm kidding, it's just a _joke_! Well, how strong could you even be, anyways? People told me that people from Fódlan piss themselves at night. You've never done _that_, right?_

I was smart enough not to ask her if she'd ever appear in public next to me, outside of these little visits. I already knew the answer—but the longer I prevented myself from asking, the longer I could make excuses for growing closer to her. In the very least, it'd be better for my reputation if I could spread the word that I was with a girl.

I tried testing things out with my parents, casually mentioning to them one day that I'd made a new friend—a specifically female friend. They'd absently congratulated me, patting me on the head, and didn't pay it much further mind. It was a more promising sign than my situation before, at any rate.

The moment of truth, however, came swiftly and mercifully, in a way.

"What do you think you're doing?" Nera giggled, pushing my face away as I'd leaned in to kiss her.

"Oh...sorry. I guess you want to just be friends?" I asked, backing up.

"Obviously. Why would I ever want to be with someone like you?"

I pretended to laugh. "Ouch. You don't have to be mean about it."

"I'm just being honest," she said, combing through her hair almost absent-mindedly. "You're from Fódlan. Sorry to break it to you, but you're not exactly attractive."

"Uh-huh. And tell me, whatever happened to 'not being like other Almyrans'?" An ugly, mocking tone started to drip from my voice.

"Are you stupid?" she said, almost sounding defensive. "I'm talking to you, aren't I? And when have I ever tried to hurt you?"

I tossed a smile her way, speaking softly and warmly. "Stupid? I suppose I am. After all, only a stupid person would pay attention to how unkempt your hair is. Is that the new fashion? You'll have to get your parents to show me how to get my hair like that."

Her hands froze mid-motion, her knuckles tightening on the knots in her hair. I'd hit a nerve.

It was the job of a girl's parents to show her how to put up her hair in different ways—for both daily life and various occasions. Hers clearly didn't do their due diligence.

She stood up, her chest rising and falling as I watched her grow colder and colder towards me. "This isn't fun anymore," she finally said. When she saw that I had nothing left to say after that, she scoffed, turned around, and walked away. I was left alone, which was what I wanted.

Or...was that really it?

If what I suspected about her was true, we actually had a lot in common. She probably deserved at least a scrap of sympathy. Or in the very least, I could've continued to use her for my appearance, to help give off the impression that I was only interested in girls. So...why did I have to take things as far as I did?

Her pretty face, her funny little mannerisms, her wit, and every awful word that was said—everything was all muddled. And yet I let myself hope that she'd surprise me—that she really wouldn't be like the others. The truth of it was that, in spite of everything, I'd liked her.

After breathing in the stilled air, I picked up my bow and arrow and resumed my training, pretending that the shaking in my hands wasn't there.

My arrow missed again as I heard a wail piercing through the air. I looked up at the source of the noise, and I saw a red and white wyvern clawing and twisting painfully in the sky.

* * *

**White Clouds**

It'd end up snowing a few times during the school year, but it only really accumulated around Garreg Mach once. The students from the Blue Lions house seemed largely uninterested when it happened, but those from the other houses were running about outside, catching snowflakes on their tongues. Was that a Fódlan tradition?

I didn't want to seem overly excited over it, but I just had to go and see what it was like. I ran out into the courtyard, turned my face to the gray sky, and stuck my tongue out. The results were admittedly underwhelming—it had no taste at all. What was so great about it?

It was interesting to look up at the sky while it was snowing, though. The white flecks just kept flying down at my eyes, like tiny stars or fairy dust. It snowed last year, too, when I was staying at the Alliance—but it didn't stick, and on top of all that I had to fill in for my grandfather on that day, so I hardly got to see any of it. Of course, Almyra pretty much never saw snow—that was a freak-of-nature once-in-a-century kind of thing.

Some of the other students had started scooping up the snow and were packing it into tight balls, which they threw at each other. It was an absolutely inspiring sight. My mind raced as I thought of all the applications and possibilities. I just had to get the rest of the Golden Deer in on this. And then, who would we ambush first? Maybe the other house leaders? Or one of the knights?

My head jerked forward as a burst of cold hit the back of my neck. I yelped involuntarily, trying to swipe whatever was causing the strange sensation off of me. Looking at what I had in my hand, I saw that it was a chunk of snow.

"It's wet!" I exclaimed. "Why is it wet?"

"What are you talking about? Haven't you seen snow before?" Lysithea asked in astonishment.

I turned around to see her accompanied by some of the usual gang—Hilda was giggling at my squirms as the rest of the snow started to melt and trickle down my neck and back, and Leonie was already packing more snowballs with a competitive grin.

"Sure, but I was never allowed to play in the stuff," I said smoothly as I backed away from them. "I'm guessing you're all staging an intervention, then? To get me better acquainted?"

I jumped out of the way as Leonie threw more snowballs at me with impressive speed. As I dodged left and right, I crashed into you as you wandered into the courtyard curiously.

"Teach, just in time! I need your help," I said, clutching your shoulders as you caught me, looking up at your hair and eyes that were now a light green. This was a good opportunity to lift your spirits after everything that'd happened lately. "You have to defend my honor! Will you protect me from these hooligans?"

"Hooligans?" you asked, looking up at a snickering Leonie, Lysithea, and Hilda. "You mean them?"

"Yes, exactly. I knew you'd understand," I said. With a wink, I slipped behind you and pushed you in front of me. "Go get 'em! But don't be a hero or anything."

Without hesitation, Leonie happily beaned you right in the forehead.

"That's not fair, Claude," Hilda protested. "Who said that the professor wants to be on your side? I think he'd have much more fun on our side, right?"

Lysithea nodded. "With our superior numbers, we clearly have the advantage."

"Your words of treachery will never work on Teach! He's the paragon of loyalty, after all," I said.

After shaking the snow off your head, you crouched down and started shoveling snow with your hands and arms into a huge pile in front of your feet, which you proceeded to pummel and shape together.

"Ah, excellent plan! We'll take shelter behind this...um, fort?" I said. "Or...what is—is it a sculpture, or something?"

With a slight grunt, you wrapped your arms around the monstrous thing and pushed up with your leg muscles, hoisting it up from the ground. Chunks crumbled off the edges of the mass of snow as you started to take tottering steps towards me with some kind of look in your eye.

"What, do you need hel—oh. Uh-oh." I took a step back, and turned around to run away, stumbling as my feet sank and twisted in the snow. You started chasing after me, on the verge of falling over any second from how heavy the snowball was. "Teach, what are you—what the hell are you—" I said, out of breath and half-falling, half-sliding onto the ground. I was laughing too hard to continue running. "Oh no, no, no, no!" I raised my arms up as you dumped the snowball on me. In a heavy _whump_, the snow exploded and collapsed on top of me in a heap, more or less smooshing my torso into the rest of the ground. I couldn't stop laughing.

"That—that was so uncalled for! You know that means war, right?" I said as I tried to catch my breath.

"Well, good luck fighting any 'wars' in your current state," Leonie remarked as I flailed my arms, trying and failing to lift myself up from the ground. She flung an additional snowball at my head.

Hilda was guffawing in the most unladylike way I'd ever heard from her. "Wow! You sure showed him, professor!" she said.

"Shall I send for Raphael?" Lysithea asked with a hint of smugness. "I'm sure he'd be happy to help you, since you seem to be struggling so much."

"There's no need for that, kiddo," I said, "I'm fine. Though under this weight, I'm...it's...getting hard to...breathe…"

You instinctively bent down to try and help me, and once your face was in reach, I grabbed a fistful of snow and mashed it all over your face. You remained crouched and unmoving for several seconds while I snickered away, before slowly wiping the snow away with your sleeve.

You nodded inscrutably and shuffled a few feet away, where you began grabbing and molding more snow.

"Wait, wait!" I said, as you lifted and dropped another mound on top of me. "Argh, that's heavy!"

"What were you expecting to happen?" asked Leonie.

"The sweet yet ephemeral taste of revenge?" I offered as you dusted off your hands, admiring your handiwork.

"Oh, this is too great!" Hilda said as she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "Guys! You have _got _to see this!" She turned and ran, calling out to the others.

Soon enough, the rest of the Golden Deer were retrieved. Ignatz held his thumb out as he surveyed the scene before him, and commenced painting the whole thing, while Lorenz was posing as a reference. The others were piling and shaping more snow on top of me, until it was formed into an impressively bad Lorenz-esque sculpture, complete with a mess of sticks and rocks for his hair—well, actually, maybe that was an improvement...

"What? Claude!" Lorenz protested as he turned his head towards me. "Professor, Claude is eating my foundation!"

"You'be godt dno broof!" I said through a mouthful of snow. "Ah—gack! Brain freeze!" My teeth were chattering, but I insistently went for another handful of snow, swiping it out of snow-Lorenz's ankle.

"Stop messing around, or I'll build a snowman over your face, as well," Lysithea threatened.

"Raphael, no," Leonie lamented. "Don't join him!"

"Budt he made idt loog sho tashdy!" Raphael said as he scooped another chunk out of snow-Lorenz's shoulder.

"U-um," Marianne uttered as she draped a small scarf over my neck, not even attempting to wrap it around my thoroughly grounded head. Despite its glaring inefficacy, it was honestly a really touching gesture.

"Hey, thanks!" I said, before resuming my consumption of the snow. She sighed.

Before long, the others resorted to burying my arms in the snow as well to curb my destructive nature, and you'd procured a piece of meat for Raphael to occupy himself with instead. What—why on earth were you carrying that around on your person?

Now that all interferences were subdued, the snow sculpture was quickly finished, as was Ignatz's painting. After much coaxing from the others, he shyly handed it off to be passed around, to a lot of ooh-ing and ah-ing.

You held it above my face for me to see as Raphael and Marianne worked to undo the sculpture over me, so that I would be finally freed. It was the exact opposite of the snow-Lorenz in quality—that is to say, it was incredible. In it, everyone was smiling—even you and me.

Once night fell, the snow took on a pale shimmer under the moonlight. You were stoking the fire in the Golden Deer Classroom. You'd tossed your coat over me as I was reading up on more world history, pausing now and then to sneeze and blow my nose into your handkerchief. I was specifically looking for instances in which borders between civilizations were dissolved. Of course, the reasons for such events were varied—such as conquest, calamity, or social change—but it was nearly impossible to find anything that seemed promisingly non-violent. Could I really realize my dream for peace?

The only hope I'd grasped onto was cutting through Fódlan's Throat—a hope I only still had because of you. It was at least _something, _though I'd been thinking more and more that as harebrained schemes went, it was more "hare" than "brain" at this point. I wanted to weaken the Church's hold on Fódlan as well, but I wasn't sure exactly how I wanted to go about doing that. We still had a lot more we needed to understand about the Church first, anyway. Though the fact that the Archbishop took such favor to you was definitely to our advantage...maybe I was closer to finalizing my plans than I'd thought, assuming nothing would go awry.

I leaned my head back to refocus my eyes and rubbed my face. I was getting lost in my own head again.

"Maybe you could find more information at the library," you suggested innocently, continuing to stare into the flames.

I chuckled. "Do you even know what I'm researching for? Eh, forget it. You're probably right. But dare I brave the cold to go and return from there? What do you think?" I shivered as I imagined the trek through the courtyard, up the stairs, through those empty, icy stone halls, and having to double back again. It wasn't that bad of a walk in reality, but thinking about it made it seem a whole lot longer and more unpleasant. To be fair, though, I'd had enough snow exposure to last me a lifetime.

"I could go for you if you're cold," you offered.

"What, and lose you to the cold instead? We'd better stem that self-sacrificing nature of yours before you, well, sacrifice yourself." I burrowed deeper into your coat. It smelled like the outdoors—like the forest, and the sea—like you.

"Aren't you exaggerating a bit?" you said.

"I'm joking. You know that by now, right? But don't worry about it—I needed a break anyway." I stretched my neck back and forth, hearing the bones in it crack. "Ugh. See what I mean? This is a perfect opportunity to get to know each other better, instead."

You blinked neutrally, as though part of you were expecting this. "Alright. What would you like to know?"

I gave you a sneaky look. "What's your favorite animal?" I asked.

You clearly weren't prepared for that. You stared at me at length before saying, "I don't know."

I had a feeling you'd say something like that. I prodded gently, "Well, what animal, when you think about it, makes you feel the warmest and fuzziest?"

You lowered your head in thought. "Maybe none of them. I didn't feel things the way others did. It was like that for so long, I don't think I ever had a favorite...anything."

"But you're not cut off from your emotions now. At least, not so much anymore," I said. I just genuinely really wanted to know. Your likes, your dislikes...I wanted to know everything.

The light from the fireplace caressed your bangs, which were hiding your downturned eyes. Heat flickered on my cheeks.

"I suppose I haven't really thought about those kinds of things...no one's ever asked me," you said.

"Teach…"

"What do you think my favorite would be?" you asked. "Maybe you could give me some ideas."

I looked you up and down intently as my mind ran through the possibilities. "Well...you have this way about you where your face doesn't change all that much, even when you're feeling things strongly. So, maybe a cat? Cats are kind of like that, right? Plus they're really adorable."

You turned your head to the side—I wondered if you were debating whether I was implying that you were also adorable, or if you just weren't concerned with that sort of thing. "Alright. My favorite animals are cats," you said finally.

I raised a hand to my forehead in disbelief. "This is a pretty unconventional way to choose favorites, but...what the hell. Your unconventionality is part of your appeal, after all." As was always the case, you didn't react to to my flattery.

Flattery, teasing, or—was this any of those things?

What exactly was I doing?

The urge to cough stirred in my throat, but I suppressed it as I focused back on you. You were happily engaged in our conversation, and that was what mattered, right?

"So, what is your favorite animal?" you asked me.

I tapped a finger to my chin. "Wyverns are pretty amazing. I mean, they can fly and all, but they're really intelligent and loyal, too. And their bodies are surprisingly warm, which makes them good for cuddling. Or so I've heard." I glanced back at you. "What, were you expecting me to say golden deer?"

"The thought crossed my mind," you said. "I've never seen you ride a wyvern."

"True, but _I've_ never even seen a golden deer. Have you?" I said. You shook your head, your eyes softening as you looked at mine, then at my mouth, then back up. It was a habit of yours by now, but you seemed a lot more at ease now than you did those times before. Huh. I was smiling. For how long had that been a thing? "Well...your turn for a question, then."

"Alright, then… How are you feeling?" you asked. You suddenly looked a lot more serious.

"Huh? In what sense?"

"You're coughing up white petals now, and some blood. It looks very painful," you said.

I figured that you would've noticed it by now.

"I'm...feeling alright, actually. No, I'm serious!" I said as I saw you lowering your brow at me skeptically. "Actually, my chest and throat feel a lot better than before the change. It's almost like there's this numbing effect. ...And I know what you're thinking. That in itself is a worrying sign, right? But I checked with Professor Manuela, and she said that nothing's noticeably different from before. There's the bleeding, of course, but apparently the abrasions are superficial, and I'm surrounded by professors and classmates who can heal me if I ever need it."

You tilted your head as you scanned my face for any insincerity.

"Serenai _can _be used to soothe pain…" you said as you thought aloud.

"See? It's completely natural...if we're overlooking all the weird magic stuff, at any rate." The last thing you needed was to be worrying about me. Thankfully, everything was just as I'd said. If things _were _actually going wrong...I wondered if I'd have told you.

The orange light flickered on your green hair, making it look like it had a life of its own.

"So…how are _you _feeling?" I asked at length.

"...Alright."

"Uh-huh," I said in a flat tone of voice.

"I mean that," you said. "I avenged my father. We've gotten another glimpse of the enemy, and we took out some major threats in the process."

"Sure, sure, but...that doesn't answer my question. How are you _feeling_?"

"I'm…" you said, hesitating. "I'm...unsure of what's to come. I'm also unsure of how long I'll feel this way… I miss him terribly. It's hard to think of what I should do next." There was just the slightest tremble to your voice. It hadn't even been a couple months, so it was only to be expected. What could I do for you? What would help? When it came to stuff like this, I didn't know much more than I did before.

"But despite all that, I appreciate all that you've done to cheer me up," you continued more steadily, as though trying to put a positive spin on things.

"I value putting on a brave face and all around the others, Teach," I said, "but you don't have to do that around me. At least, not all the time. But hey, let's do some more fun stuff before the mission, yeah? I've got some interesting experiments I'd like to try out...care to be my lab partner?"

"Lab partner? What exactly would this entail?" you said.

"We won't really be in a lab, per se, but...hm," I said, my fingers playing across my chin. "How about this? I'll fill you in once I solidify the plans a bit more. I'll have it figured out within the week."

"That's a...cryptic way of putting things. But that sounds fine to me, otherwise."

"As trusting as ever!" I said. I honestly meant that as a compliment. "Well, I guess it's my turn to ask you another question. So...who's your favorite student?" I asked, smirking when I saw you already glowering at me with reproach.

"No one. Obviously," you said. I raised an eyebrow and was about to press the issue further, but you raised a hand as though foreseeing my response. "You were automatically disqualified as my favorite just for asking that question."

I gave a theatrical gasp. "That's cruel, Teach! Although...does this mean I was qualified before?"

"No," you said as I leaned in slyly.

"Funny, because before you'd made it sound like I was…"

With a sigh, you replied, "You're the first friend I'd ever made at Garreg Mach, and perhaps the first friend I'd ever made, generally speaking. Given all that, I can't properly judge you as a student compared with the others."

"...Curse you," I said, leaning back. "You've exploited my weakness—startling honesty."

"That wasn't a good question, anyways. It only applies to me, not to you," you said, playfully flicking the end of my braid.

I raised my hands in surrender. "Fine, fine, I'll think of another one. What is...your favorite color?"

You paused to think, before shaking your head shyly. "...What do you think it is?" you asked.

I grinned, having already picked one out for you. "Why not gold? After all, us Golden Deer are irresistible. You can't help but love us, right?"

"Gold...so it is, then," you said, smiling. Whenever I saw you look as happy as you did, I felt like anything was possible. Like we could do anything we wanted—like we could carve out these little moments of happiness together, no matter what the world threw at us. "Then, what is your favorite color?"

Gazing into your eyes, I said, "Probably green."

* * *

Author's note: I spend a lot of time listening to "Cigarettes in the Theatre" when I'm thinking of Claudeleth material, because it really gets the vibe down in my opinion—at least the beginning stages of the relationship. I'll also be traveling over the course of this week, so while I'll try to maintain a fairly regular upload schedule, that realistically might not be what ends up happening.

In other news, I completed all of the Cindered Shadows DLC within 24 hours (as I'm sure others did), because I have no self-control. Happy belated Valentine's!


	9. Chapter 9

**Dusk Stars**

I killed someone.

As was the custom, I was taken to a small arena, and a prisoner emerged. A middle-aged man. He looked...ordinary.

We fought with one clear end goal in mind: the prisoners were people who had committed serious crimes and were sentenced to execution. I mean, it was better than being thrust into a battlefield with zero experience, but...

Nader had prepared a whole feast for me in celebration after it was over, which was usually a surefire way to lift my spirits. Usually. Right now, the festivities felt at odds with what I was feeling, but it wasn't like I wanted to be left alone with my own thoughts, either. I was staring down at the plate of cooked beef in front of me, trying to work up an appetite.

His final words continued to ring out in my mind.

"It's gotta be this way."

He calmly looked up at the sky, accepting his fate as I dealt the final blow with my dagger. ...Just like that.

Wyverns were supposed to guide one through life and death. If she were still here, maybe I'd feel better.

"Hey Claude, why aren't you eating? You need to bulk up more—there'll be more fighting after that!" a woman said, piling more food onto my plate.

"Oh, uh...thanks." I still wasn't used to other people being this open towards me.

It was as Nader said. At first, they were just in proximity with me at these events because he made them do it—but some arm wrestling matches, fireside dances, and conversations later, some of them actually started to take a shining to me. Some, not all—and they often qualified their affections with phrases like "you're better than them" or "you're one of the _good _ones"—but the change was still profound. The hatred that people pointed at me all my life was borne of ignorance. The issue was that, unless someone like Nader was around to bridge the gap, they'd never let themselves get close enough to get to know me. It was hard not to think about what my life would have been like, if my father had gotten it into his thick head to do as much for me...

"You're going to need to eat more than that if you want to grow as big as me," Nader boomed, striding up to me to add even more food onto my pile. I turned to him.

"Oh, kiddo," he said, scratching at his beard uncomfortably when he saw the look in my eyes, "you know I'm no good with this kind of thing. Maybe you can talk to your parents."

"Nader," I said quietly, "Don't you ever dream of a world where this kind of thing isn't necessary?"

"Huh? What do you mean by that?"

I gazed straight ahead at the partygoers and firelight in front of me, not really paying attention to any of them. "The attacks on Fódlan. The bloodshed. The need for all these warriors. To just...start over again, and try something else. Something that works."

He frowned and scratched the back of his head. "What an odd thing to say. I don't see what you're getting at... Oh, hey! There's your parents! Maybe you can tell them all about it." He waved them over. They were grinning, arm in arm.

"Look at you! You've grown into my little man," my mother said as she dug her knuckles into my scalp.

"Yes, that was good work," my father said. "That prisoner was the strongest I've seen in many years—and you made the quickest work of him out of anyone else."

Well, the poison coating my arrows surely helped with that, but obviously I would never divulge that to him.

"You're not surprised, though, are you? Your kid is pretty bright," Nader said to my father.

"Really, now?" my father asked, stroking his beard. I could feel the blood rushing to my face and ears.

"Ahem. Nader, aren't you still hungry?" I said, nudging him in the side.

"There's always time to eat more," he said cheerily, not picking up on anything I was doing. He turned back to my father. "But let me tell ya! In my last battle, he told me that I should have my warriors attack at sunrise, and that was the easiest fight we've had in a long time. It was like magic." It wasn't that great of an idea—it just made sense to attack when the enemy would have the sun in their eyes, rather than the other way around. Pretty simple, actually. Nader elbowed me. "Everything else you told me to try out with my troops worked out great, too!"

My mother raised an eyebrow at Nader and me, and my father placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Now Claude," he said jovially, "no one has need for your silly ideas."

I stared him in the eyes. Nader looked back and forth at us with confusion written on his face. "They're not silly. They work," I said with a smile.

With a laugh and a shake of his head, my father replied, "You are supposed to face things head-on, like a true warrior. These are mere distractions."

"Ah, but maybe I don't want to be a 'true warrior'," I said, waving a finger back and forth. "Maybe I want to actually get things done around here."

He drew himself up and looked down on me. "I won't allow you to ascend to the throne if you continue to stay weak," he said.

"Aw, don't be so hard on the kid," Nader said, clapping me on the back. "He's already the best fighter among his peers. I bet you that he'll be able to go toe-to-toe with me in just a few years!"

"Nader, if you make him go soft, I'll beat the shit out of you again," my mother threatened.

He raised his arms and started to back off. "No, that's alright," he said. "I heard ya loud and clear the first time. How about we all grab some more food and forget about all this, right kiddo—"

We were interrupted by the shouts of some of the partygoers. A gust of wind and a roar tore through the air. A wyvern had landed near the campfire and was lashing their tail at the heads of those nearby, overturning some tables and scattering embers from the fire.

"Well, I'll be! She's back," Nader exclaimed. "Everyone with a weapon, surround her!"

I recognized this wyvern—she was the red-and-white wyvern I saw in the sky some weeks ago. But as I ran up to her, drawing my bow, I could see that the red splotches on her scales were dried blood. An arrow was lodged in her shoulder, and her saddle was empty.

Her rider was...well, whoever they were, they were gone now. That much could be seen. Now that I thought about it, the day I first spotted her was the day that Nader and his soldiers were attacking Fodlan's Locket—that must've been when it happened.

Some people up front began firing arrows over her that trailed rope behind them, which they pulled on to subdue her to the ground. She growled and tried to flap her wings, but they were soon pinned down.

"Now, now. Easy. Come on, girl," Nader said coaxingly, extending a hand towards her head. With a rasping hiss, she snapped at his hand with her teeth, forcing him to jump back.

"She's no better than last time," one of Nader's friends lamented. "It's probably hopeless."

"I know," he sighed. "It's a damn shame, but…"

"I'll do it," my father said, stepping forward as he drew his sword. "You can help in keeping her still."

"Sure thing," Nader said as he moved towards one of the ropes. Everyone who was pulling the ropes down on her were grunting and straining as she continued to struggle.

Not wasting any time, my father walked closer to her neck. He'd raised his sword over his head when an arrow ricocheted off the blade with a ringing sound. Everyone froze.

"Claude," my father said calmly as he turned to me. "What do you think you're doing?"

"You and me," I said, drawing another arrow. "We'll go man-to-man, just as you prefer it. You'll have to beat me if you want to get to her."

My father stared into my eyes, unblinking. Everyone else was completely silent, save for the wyvern as she growled and wailed. He took in a deep breath...and then burst out laughing. He shook his head, sheathing his sword.

"You've got some hardness to you, after all. I'm glad," he said. My bow descended as he sauntered to me and patted my head. "Don't worry. I'm not interested in stomping on my own son."

Oh? I wasn't so sure that'd be the outcome. Not now. I'd learned all kinds of tricks, all kinds of ways of gaining the upper hand. But regardless, I didn't actually want to fight him.

I put my arrow away, exhaling through my nose. I had a feeling that this would be the outcome, but there was no telling for certain. Raising a weapon to the king had to have been a grave transgression for an ordinary person, but my reputation of cowardice actually worked to my advantage for once. I bet no one was expecting that I'd do something like that.

"Alright, you heard him. Let's go back to the party," my father said.

"But what about Tara?" Nader asked.

The wyvern didn't respond well to hearing her name from someone she wasn't bonded to. She threw her head up, thrashing her tail back and forth, nearly breaking free of her ropes.

"Whoa, whoa!" Nader shouted.

"Your majesty," someone protested, "if she rampages, she'll be too dangerous to the civilians. We can't just leave her."

My father raised a hand dismissively. "He's shown he's tough enough to handle this on his own. Let's go. That's an order."

For better or for worse, those holding down Tara's ropes released their grip and began hurriedly retreating before she could attack them. As soon as her bonds were relaxed, she spread her wings wide, gnashing her teeth as she steadied herself on her two feet.

"You've got this, kiddo!" Nader said, slapping my back as he jogged to safety.

"Really? You're just going to—" I started to say, but he and the others'd already gone a safe distance away. Well, regardless, first thing's first: I had to calm her down so that she wouldn't run wild.

"Hey there," I called out. She turned her head to the side to focus one of her eyes on me. "Let's get better acquainted. What do you say?" With a snarl, she backed away and began flapping her wings.

"Wait, wait!" I couldn't let her take off—the last thing I wanted was to have to shoot her wings. Continuing to look up at her, I bent towards the ground and reached for some scattered food that had been knocked from the tables she'd thrown around. Grabbing a cut of lamb, I held it up so that she could see, and waved it slowly to and fro. She regarded me suspiciously until the smell got wafted to her nose, at which point she stilled, nostrils flaring. "Alright. If you want this, you'll have to come a little closer."

Her tail flicked impatiently. As I straightened up, she parted her mouth to bare her teeth. Her yellow eyes were dull and worn-down. She could probably have really used the food...why was she acting like this?

"It's okay. I'm not after anything. All I care about is that you're alive. Killing you'd be…" I paused. "It'd be a little crude. It's better this way, yeah?"

She stared at me, not understanding a word I'd said. After a bit longer, I sighed, tossing the meat her way, and she caught it in her mouth. Now that she was distracted, she took notice of the rest of the food scattered on the ground and began gobbling all of it up. There was no guarantee that she wouldn't just take off once she'd eaten everything, but at this point there wasn't much else that I could try if she wouldn't cooperate.

I inched closer, one step at a time, halting every time she looked up from her food so that she wouldn't be startled. She growled a bit each time she saw me, until I was just a couple feet away. Once I was close enough for her to smell me, she sniffed the air, and eventually quieted. She folded in her wings completely and planted her haunches on the ground. Good.

"You're going to cause me a lot of trouble, aren't you? Well, don't worry," I said quietly as I watched her. "You don't owe me anything. You don't have to belong to me, and I don't have to belong to you."

As she continued eating, I glanced up at the arrow that was still in her shoulder. There was no way I'd get away with pulling that out now, so I'd have to just leave it be.

She must've been in a lot of pain.

* * *

**White Clouds**

It was the perfect day for a plan like this one. An unusually warm front had blown in from the east, which brought with it rain and humidity, instead of the freezing dryness that was more typical for this time of year. The last time it had rained was when you…

At any rate, this rain was lukewarm and scattering in all directions from the wind, unlike the steady, oppressive rain from before that beat straight down. And this time around, it would help conceal any noise that we would end up making, assuming my plan worked. The inclement weather also significantly reduced the number of faculty and other students that would be wandering outside, which would help us remain undetected. I'd sent Ignatz to keep watch near the entrance hall steps, and Marianne to keep watch in front of the greenhouse—which they were both happy about, as Ignatz was scared of explosions and Marianne didn't like seeing dead animals. Hilda was supposed to keep watch in front of the dining hall, but as usual, she abandoned her post once she got too bored.

"Are you sure this'll work?" she said, looking over my shoulder.

"I sure hope so," said Raphael. "I could use the extra protein."

"I am much too busy to waste my time here," said Lysithea. "Couldn't you have asked someone else to assist with this?"

I said, "If you want to complain, then complain to Mister Stuffypants. I asked him first, but he was sadly uninterested in contributing to our efforts. Alas! I never thought I'd see the day when the noble nobility would so un-nobly refuse to help those in need."

"You do realize that I am standing here before you, yes?" Lorenz sighed. "As I stated earlier, I could not allow myself to be complicit in such a breach of Garreg Mach's rules and trust. Unfortunately, I suppose that there is no stopping you, either."

"I'm conflicted," Leonie said, frowning. "This is pretty rash—but it's hard to resist the temptation of seeing if this will be a more efficient way of getting food."

Lysithea said, "You know, Claude, things would be much more efficient if I used thunder magic on the pond. Then all the fish would float to the top of the water as well, which would make them much easier to collect."

I shook my head. "I thought of that. But if the magic is strong enough, it could kill all the animal life in this pond, which would have a permanent impact on its small ecosystem—to say the least. But if we only affect one section of the pond, then the fish should be able to repopulate without much issue—which will save our hides if the other faculty ever catch wind of this."

"Where did you even get that blasting powder?" you asked, shaking your wet bangs from your forehead. You were holding a large classroom slate over my head, alternating between which of us got respite from the downpour. It was a wonder that your arms weren't tired yet.

"It's not the journey that's important, Teach, but the destination," I hand-waved, putting the finishing touches on my makeshift bomb.

I'd been puzzling over this one for a while, because during my earlier experiments, an explosive that relied on a fuse would of course have that fuse be extinguished once it touched the water. On the other hand, if I tried to light the fuse and then seal the whole thing in a watertight container, the seal would end up being airtight, too—which would snuff out the fuse once the small flame ran out of air. The solution, however, ended up being simple—I didn't need the fuse at all.

"Alright. Lysithea, are you ready?" I asked.

"Let's get this over with," she said.

"Great. One."

Lysithea cast an offensive spell at the water. Waves sloshed away from the site of impact, leaving an ephemeral depression in the pond.

"Two," I said, tossing my explosive into the fissure. "Three!"

She cast a second spell at the explosive before the water crashed back over it.

There was a loud booming noise, and we all stumbled and sputtered as a wall of water slapped into us. Even more water got flung upwards and rained from above—which was pretty redundant, for obvious reasons. I wiped my wet eyes with my equally wet hands and looked around. Lysithea was face-planted on the ground, but everyone else seemed alright, if a bit shaken. Unfortunately, there were no fish to be seen—which was completely unexpected, given the population density of the fish that I estimated.

I blinked and looked up. You were a little off-balance, but you were still holding the slate over my head determinedly. I held in a laugh.

"Teach, you can, uh, put that down. It's okay."

You obliged with a nod. Raphael picked Lysithea up by the scruff of her collar and planted her back on her feet, and she coughed and snuffled her nose.

"Claude!" she yelled, stomping her boot. "You're a dumbass!"

Hilda covered her mouth, shaking with suppressed giggling. Everyone else started laughing too.

I grinned. "Alright, who taught her how to curse? Was it you, Lorenz?"

"I—wha—why I never," Lorenz stammered in outrage.

"Enough! I'm leaving," said Lysithea as she stormed away, boots squishing and squelching with every step.

"I have to admit, that was kind of a failure," said Leonie with disappointment.

I shrugged. "I guess I'll admit defeat…but I'm still not sure what went wrong. There should've been at least a fish or two…"

Raphael rubbed his stomach. "Aw, man…I was really counting on that working. I'm starved."

"Sorry, Raph. My schemes can't all be winners, I guess—" I looked over at you as you started shimmying your shoulders from side to side. "Uh, Teach, do you really have to dance in celebration of my failure?"

Mouth tensed, you reached into the decorative armor wrapped around your waist and pulled out a wriggling fish. We all stared at the fish in your hands as you stood still, probably feeling relieved now that it wasn't squirming against your torso.

What a lucky fi_—_wait, what was I thinking? I shook my head.

You handed the sad creature to Raphael, who whooped happily and ran it up to the dining hall.

"See? It was a good plan," you said. You smiled and ruffled your fingers through my hair. For a second, I think I forgot to breathe.

The others started laughing again, and I couldn't help but join in this time.

"Wow, good catch, professor!" said Hilda cheerily.

"Okay, but we are _not _doing this again," Leonie added.

Even Lorenz was chortling with some mirth. "I must admit, that was unexpected," he said.

As we chattered away and debated whether or not to try again—most everyone adamantly saying no, despite my insistence—Marianne came running up to us, looking paler than usual. "Se—Se—Seteth," she said quietly, between hushed breaths.

We instantly got her meaning.

"Whoops. Let's split," I said, leaping up the steps towards the dining hall. "Hilda and Marianne, with me—Lorenz and Leonie, to Leonie's dorm—and grab Ignatz! Teach—" I halted and turned. You had started towards the dining hall as well, but had doubled back for the slate you'd left on the ground. I ran back down the steps, past Marianne and Hilda as they ran upwards. I grabbed your arm and started dragging you back. "Come on, Teach!"

Seteth's voice punctured through the dampening rain. "What on earth are you doing?"

Everyone else had gone, thankfully—it'd make us look a little less suspicious with less people around.

"Ah. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised to see you here," he said, glowering at me. "There was a strange noise and a vibration in the ground. Flayn got frightened that it was an earthquake. Now, explain yourself."

"We were just investigating the noise," you said plainly. "I know that Claude has a certain…reputation. But I will vouch for him. He wasn't responsible."

Seteth stared at you, then at my hand still wrapped around your wrist.

"That's right," I said, making a show of being discomposed. "We were _bravely_ investigating, and I definitely _wasn't _scared of the noise, and I certainly wasn't so scared that I grabbed anyone and shrieked like a little infant." I looked down at the hand that grabbed your arm and did an exaggerated double-take, as though I were seeing it for the first time, too. I quickly released my grip and crossed my arms as awkwardly as I could without cringing inside.

Seteth sighed as he rubbed his temples. "I…see. Well, did you happen to see anything?"

"No," you said. "We were wondering if it was lightning or a minor earth tremor."

"And you chose to investigate by appropriating monastery equipment?" Seteth asked, taking note of the slate on the ground. "Need I remind you that your teaching supplies are to be used solely for instruction, and nothing else?"

"I thought it might provide some shelter from the rain while we went searching for the source of the noise. That was my mistake. It won't happen again," you said.

"Very well then. I'll report this to Lady Rhea, regardless. Oh, and please learn to comport yourself more appropriately," Seteth said towards me. With a curt nod, he headed off.

"I—" I started to say, but you nodded towards the greenhouse and started walking towards it. After processing for a second, I realized what you meant and followed you there.

"What is it?" I asked you as we stepped inside. The greenhouse was still warm from the sunlight and heat it had collected from the day before.

"I just didn't want you to catch cold like you did last time," you said, stripping off your coat. I realized I was shivering. I smiled when you offered your coat to me, but after a couple seconds of me raising my eyebrow at you, you caught your mistake. "Right." You wrung the water out of it and instead laid it on the stone floor to dry.

You then unclasped the armor around your midsection and removed your gauntlets. Weirdly enough, you looked a lot smaller without all your layers—even almost fragile, at least compared to how you appeared normally. I didn't fully realize how lean you were. As you started wringing out the loose ends of your tunic, I could glimpse the lined muscles of your stomach beneath the lifted folds of cloth.

"You're being a little quieter than usual," you said. I leaned my head back to gaze at the glass ceiling as you looked back up at me.

The water flowing and rippling against the glass mixed with the colors of the outside world, almost like an experimental painting. It was actually quite beautiful.

"I was just—" I coughed up some petals, "—letting my mind wander, I guess."

"What were you trying to say to me before?"

"Oh, that." I lowered my head and started shaking the water out of my cape. "It wasn't anything important." I paused to cough again. "I just wanted to thank you for sticking up for me like that. …I don't think anyone's ever done something like that for me."

"Never? That's…sad."

I sat down on the floor, crossing my legs. "Whatever happened or didn't happen, it's all in the past. Sad times just make for good learning experiences, I say."

When I noticed you looking a little pensive, I added, "But hey, things are looking up now—we've got some nicer learning experiences under our belts now, yeah?" I leaned back on my hands, glancing again at the swirling waters on the ceiling. "Learning aside, this year has been pretty fun somehow, despite everything that's happened. To be honest, I can't remember the last time I got to act like a kid. Though maybe that's not quite the right way to describe it…" I ran a hand backwards through my hair, resting it behind my neck. Maybe I'd never acted this way before, actually.

"I...think I understand," you said after a pause. "I'm glad I met everyone here, as odd as it feels to suddenly have so many friends."

"It's not that crazy, Teach. It's only natural that people would gravitate towards you once they get to know you. You've always been ridiculously kind to the people here, like me." I bent forward, tucking my knee under my chin. "So much, in fact, that sometimes I'd even ask myself why."

"Why…?" you echoed.

"Ah—but that's just the kind of person you are," I said with a shrug. "You're the type of person to go out of their way to help others...no matter, say, who they are, or where they've come from." I gave a smile, down towards the tiles. "Thing is, nothing's unconditional. At least...I thought I knew that much. But it's so strange. I…"

You placed your hand on the top of my head. I could feel the brush of your bare fingers through my hair. My eyes briefly fluttered closed as I thought of nothing else but how it felt. People reaching out to me to chastise, to control, to congratulate, to hurt...no one's touch felt quite like yours.

"Claude," you said, "when Solon sent me away...do you know how I made it back?" I opened my eyes, and you knelt down on one knee, meeting my gaze. "When I merged with the goddess, we had to make a wish to make it out of the darkness. A powerful one. My will was to come back to you—to protect all of you. And when I tried to imagine you...imagine where you were...it was like there was this light that guided me back to the right place. If not for the connections I've made with all of you, I might never have had the resolve to make it back. So if I don't know what to do, or where to go...if I'm ever lost again, then I'll just follow your light, just like before. And I want you to do the same. If you need me, then I'll be there for you. That is that."

You were so close, I couldn't focus on any one part of your face. My eyes flicked back and forth as I searched through yours. At first, whenever you treated me a little too kindly, I had trouble believing it. But now...I had to believe it.

You looked a little confused as I found myself leaning forward. As I caught myself, a sensation of relief and numbness prickled through my body as I coughed up more serenai petals, turning away.

"Are you alright? You've been coughing a lot," you said. "Here." You raised a hand in front of me, closing the scrapes in my throat and mouth with the bit of healing magic you'd picked up recently.

"I'm good...thanks," I said as I looked off to the side at some of the greenhouse plants. "...I didn't know all of that stuff that you said before. I'm glad you told me." Wanting to change the subject, I added, "You know, this really was a good idea, Teach. It's so warm and cozy here, I might just take a nap."

"On the hard ground?" you asked as I lowered my back onto the floor to face up at the ceiling, tucking my hands behind my head.

"You ought to try it. There'll be a surprise if you do."

After wringing your clothes out a bit more, you lay down beside me, your hands clasped over your stomach as you blinked up at the ripples on the glass above.

"Ah."

I turned my head towards you. "Pretty, right?" I said as I gazed upon your face. A whisper of a smile had touched your lips.

As we stayed there in comfortable silence, I let my mind wander through the twists and turns, the muddled colors, the murmured sounds of the water on the ceiling.

If I were to go back in time to tell my younger self what I had to look forward to, would I have even believed myself?

The hint of happiness in your eyes when we talked about flowers. Creating foul-smelling experiments in the kitchen. You getting scolded by the kitchen staff alongside me. Not having to look over my own back during battle. Making new friends. Laughing with these new friends of ours, sometimes because I actually wanted to—not out of a sense of obligation. Sometimes, not even thinking about how they might react if they ever found out where I came from. Seeing the relief you felt whenever someone accepted you for who you were. The glint on your wrist of the bracelet I gave you for your birthday. Your eyes meeting mine as you gave your lectures. The encouraging way you talked about my dreams, even though I hadn't told you what they were yet. Your intrigued silence as I told you stories of far-off lands. Being able to talk about different gods with you. The sound of pages turning as we read together in the library. Stolen glances at you over the pages of my book. Losing myself in the maze of these moments with you.

My eyes drifted to you again. Water was still dripping from your light green bangs, trickling along your forehead to the floor. You were already asleep.

Our mission in the Holy Tomb was only a couple of days from now. At the moment, I was playing a waiting game. This mission would provide important insights as to just what Rhea wanted from you, and perhaps more. What my next moves would be depended on whatever ended up happening.

But for now, I could breathe past the patchy numbness in my lungs, unworried about all the what-ifs that lay ahead. For now, I could let myself sink into slumber next to you, and just think about today.

For now.

* * *

Author's note:

This chapter was way too long. WHOOPS. In other news, I'm back from travel, so hopefully I can shake off my jetlag for the sake of my own schedule! And as always, a huge thank-you to everyone who's read and commented. You're all the best!


	10. Chapter 10

CW: Discrimination

* * *

**Dusk Stars**

"Claude, your wyvern, ah, _relieved_ herself all over Isan's chickens. Seemed rather happy about it, too. You'd better collect her," Nader said, gesturing with a thumb over his shoulder.

That sounded like Tara. Acting out of...what was it? Spite? What a troublesome creature…

Nader had probably encountered Isan while he was out on the town and got an earful of it. I was actually supposed to be getting trained by Nader at the moment, but there wasn't much else he could teach me at this point aside from sending me off into real battlefield experience—which I'd personally had my fill of. We'd fallen into a nice routine of him grabbing some extra drinks with his friends while I'd catch up on my reading, hidden among some pine bushes near his training grounds. Of course, my parents were none the wiser, which was to the benefit of both of us.

Sitting up, I snapped my book shut with a single hand and scratched the back of my head with the other. "I told you, she's not 'my' wyvern. Isan knows better than to leave her chickens unsupervised." As unfair as it was, I'd been trying to shift the blame for Tara's behavior onto others whenever possible. The last thing I needed was people thinking that I couldn't handle her. Besides that, I meant every word. I knew she wasn't my wyvern. Tara knew that, too.

"Weren't you the only one who wanted to keep her around? Maybe you should try going for a ride with her. That's always a good way to build up some loyalty," Nader said as I stood up, heading towards the city border where Isan's farm was located.

"If that were possible, then you'd have a point, but...yeah, that's not happening," I said with a wave.

Tara wouldn't even accept chin-scratches for more than a couple minutes, even though she clearly enjoyed them. Plus, ever since I'd pulled the arrow out of her shoulder, she tolerated my presence even less...and I went to the trouble of putting sedatives in her food and everything. All things considered, a ride on her seemed out of the question.

I made my way past market vendors, houses, temples erected for all the gods that I never worshipped, and groups of children that ran past my knees, only a couple of which shot me critical glances. It didn't feel that long ago that I was as small as that, and almost as helpless. Almost.

"Hey, it's Claw-claw!" someone called out. Akela waved at me, with Bassa right behind her—some of Nader's friends.

"What's up, kid? Where ya headed?" Bassa asked as they approached, struggling to keep their gaits in a straight line.

"You're looking wobblier than usual. Were you out drinking with Nader at this time of the afternoon?" I said.

"We've been at it since the morning, actually," Akela said jovially, rubbing a finger under her flushed nose.

"Ah, of course. It's a free day today. I don't know why I expected anything else from you two," I said, shrugging dramatically.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Bassa said with a good-natured laugh, stumbling a bit as he tried to keep up with my strides.

While we were chatting, some merchants coming from the opposite direction passed by us, whispering amongst themselves.

"Did you hear? He got a fucked up wyvern. Now we have to deal with two of them."

"Isn't he just asking for more trouble? You'd think he'd gotten the message the first time."

"Maybe being weak makes you stupid, too."

For just a second, my footsteps slowed, before picking back up again like nothing happened. A draft trickled in, rustling the curls of hair around my face.

"Ah, just ignore them!" Akela said, shaking me by the shoulder.

"That's right. You've got us, now," Bassa added with a hiccup.

"Right. I know," I said. "But that reminds me, I've gotta grab Tara before she makes more trouble. Later."

"Huh? Where's the bushfire?" Bassa called out as I picked up the pace, leaving the two of them behind.

I was grateful. I was. I wasn't about to reject every positive change that'd happened by throwing a tantrum, or saying that it wasn't enough. Even though it really wasn't.

But...this fear that clung to my veins, filled me like a poison...would it follow me for the rest of my life?

The wind picked up, running past my ankles, roaring in my head. A shriek seared the air above me. Everyone else flinched and covered their ears.

Slowing to a halt, I turned to see that Tara had come to us, rather than the other way around. She was circling just above the rooftops of the city, screeching her lungs out as if she were in heat—which she certainly wasn't.

A lot of people were scattering away from the awful noise with their hands over their ears. She was good at making a spectacle, at least.

As she clawed through the sky, I could see her mourning, her paranoia, her almost primitive need to send people away from her. She only quieted, just a little bit, as her distant eyes met mine.

Violent, loud, a vibrant white tear in the sky. And then there was myself...silent...still.

The wind whipped the collar of my shirt back and forth as I offered her a placid smile. An unmoving smile.

It seemed that, finally, we understood each other.

* * *

**White Clouds**

I was in a chasm, in the depths between two cliffsides. I could hear flowing water in the static darkness around me.

I took a step forward, but my boot slid on the ground, and I reached out my hands blindly to catch myself. My palm collided with the side of the cliff, cutting into my skin and sending a pounding sensation through my wrist. If the rocks here were wet, then the body of water had to be nearby—and if it was so quiet this close, then it was either very slow, or very small.

If you were here, you'd have dropped everything to bandage my hand, even if I told you not to.

Despite my exhaustion, I mustered whatever patience I could and waited until my eyes adjusted to the dark. Once they did, I surveyed my surroundings. There were no discernible tracks, no signs of impact—nothing, let alone a body.

I could see now that the water was a broad stream, though the outline of it was unclear. Dipping my fingers into it, I determined which way was downstream, and headed in that direction. I did my best to follow the stream's dim curves, sometimes slipping or stepping into the water, and occasionally stopping to once more scan for any clues or traces. The rhythms and pauses of my footsteps started to form a kind of endless song as I stepped deeper and deeper into darkness. It was a different rhythm altogether from the echoes of our footsteps, when we'd walk side-by-side through the monastery halls.

I was expecting the stream to lead into a larger river, but I eventually arrived at a dead end. It emptied out into a lake, at just the spot where the cliffs had shallowed out and were starting to open back up to the forests and sky.

Squinting now that the moon and stars were beating down at full strength, I circled the lake, but I didn't find any tracks leading to or from it. Bodies tended to float, didn't they? But there was nothing on the surface, either—nor could I see anything in the depths. Just to be sure, I kicked off my boots and waded into the icy waters. I stuck my head under, looking past the startled fish towards the bottom—still nothing. I surfaced with a gasp and struggled to return to the shore, resisting the weight of my coldness, fatigue, and waterlogged clothes.

Had I been mistaken? Where was there left to look—upstream, maybe?

I shook out my dripping cape, as I did on that rainy day I spent with you, and started heading back.

* * *

**Dusk Stars**

My mother was never enthusiastic about discussing where she'd come from, but on one fortunate evening, she got especially plastered and was more amenable to answering my many questions. That's when I learned about my grandfather. As unceremonious as it all was, I was excited.

Up until then, I'd accepted that I'd have to wait to inherit the throne in Almyra before I could have the power to change anything. Even then, it'd be—difficult, let's say—to have the people at large accept someone like me as their ruler. But if I could leverage my relation to my grandfather _now_, and lead part of Fódlan...having a foothold in both nations would be a game-changer, and one of huge proportions. I commenced preparations to depart for Fódlan immediately.

There was just one thing I had to do before I left. I wanted to show my appreciation for the ones who showed me any kindness—there was Nader, obviously, and his friends—even a couple friends of those friends. The only other person was the woman from Sreng—the only healer who would treat me, back when I was just a kid.

"You! Hello," she said as I stood outside of her hut.

"Hey, Anielga! Glad you're still well. I wanted to—" I began to say when she started tugging on my arm. "Whoa, what's all this?"

"Blessing! Have blessing," she said as I allowed myself to get dragged inside.

It didn't feel great to admit it, but it'd been a while since I paid her a visit. I didn't want to bump into Kalel, just in case he still swung by from time to time. I eyed the many additions to her shelf of potions since I'd last been here. "That's really not necessary. I just wanted to say my goodbyes—I'm leaving Almyra for a while. Who knows when we'll next see each other?"

"Goodbyes are not the necessary! You see me. You are good. You my please—for this blessing. My happiness if you are the blessing." She sat me down on a short stool and began gathering mottled incense sticks and a book of spells. "Need words. You think of words. Careful word. Only blessing on you. Like, 'battle wound heal' or 'higher energy of muscle'—ha! You try better than my word. My word not...is not good."

Anielga chuckled to herself as she began lighting the incense. It produced a strange smell—at first I thought it smelled like home, but then I detected the scent of damp forest leaves, melting ice, distant sands, and the sunlit ocean—the scents of many homes. Was that even possible? How far had this woman traveled in her lifetime?

I tried thinking of what I wanted, but it was hard to come up with anything. By the sound of things, it had to only affect me—so wishing for world peace or stuff of that nature was out of the question. Ah, well. I'd read enough literature to know that letting magic solve problems on that scale would just be bad news. So what, then?

After she chanted for a few seconds under her breath, she softly blew the smoke from the incense towards me. Instead of fading away, it grew thicker as it circled around my neck, glowing and burning in bright swirls of color.

"Now, think careful. My blessing?" she said.

"Um—protect me from pain?" I offered.

The colors around my neck intensified into a blinding light that pierced into my skin and disappeared, leaving the smoke behind. The smoke, now colorless, began to thin out into the air.

Stroking her chin thoughtfully, Anielga whipped out what looked like a long smoking pipe. I drew back my hand reflexively as she rapped it hard on my knuckles.

"No? Not good?" she asked with a frown.

"Heh. Yep. That hurt, all right," I said, rubbing my hand.

"I wondering…" She placed the narrow end of her pipe to her ear and the other to my chest, above my heart. "Sound is okay. You feel okay? Your words okay?"

"I think so…"

"Maybe your words not good. Maybe bad," she said with a glower.

Before she could scold me, I placed my hands on her shoulders and pushed her back. "You really don't need to worry about it. I don't especially care if it works or not—I just wanted to thank you before I left."

It took several more minutes of appeasing her and assuring that all the emotions hadn't left my body or anything crazy like that, but she eventually acquiesced.

As I waved her goodbye, I said, "Now that I'm leaving, there'll be some spare room in my parent's house. Why don't you stay there, once in a while? It can't be safe all the way out here."

She just laughed, looking rather sad, yet happy at the same time. "You are good. But sometime, safety is not good. Time, time is enemy...but more friend. Safety is friend...but then enemy. Find...find…" she stammered a bit, searching for her words.

I had no idea what she was trying to say, but I patted her arm as she let me go.

That would be the last time I'd ever see her. When I'd next return to Almyra, she'd have disappeared, with only scorch marks where her hut once was. No one knew where she'd gone.

* * *

**White Clouds**

As dawn approached, I pushed through my fatigue to regroup with the Golden Deer, who were gathered along with most of the other students who'd evacuated Garreg Mach. We weren't too far from the remnants of Remire Village.

Though you'd disappeared, the sentiment wasn't much different from when Solon magicked you away—there was an unease that seemed to shiver through the others, but they all put on a brave face. We knew you'd survived—at least, I did. The others at least dared to hope.

After getting squeezed shoulder-to-shoulder with everyone as Raphael somehow managed to hug us all at once, we parted ways. There wasn't much time to say goodbyes or think things over—everyone was anxious to return to their loved ones, before war found their lands. I wasn't anxious to return to any home, however.

I was determined.

* * *

**Dusk Stars**

"Easy," I said to Tara as I finished braiding the side of my hair. She was growling at the spotted wyvern I'd brought to the front of the house, and was doing a good job of ignoring me. A wyvern of her background shouldn't have any reason to be territorial, but given her trauma, she was a special case.

"I said easy," I said again, patting the side of her jaw. She finally turned her head to look at me, though the growling sound wouldn't stop. "You don't want to spend our last moments together like this, do you?" Though she couldn't understand what I was saying, she didn't seem to be fond of my tone of voice. She spread her wings in an attempt to overshadow me. "Come on, I know you're gonna miss me," I said, winking at her only to have her blow hot air from her nostrils into my face, tousling my hair every which way. "Hey, don't be grumpy! I'd bring you with me if I could."

The particular wyvern I borrowed was trained solely for traveling purposes—to get you to a destination, and if so instructed, be able to navigate its way back on its own for others to use. Like all things, this next undertaking of mine would be accomplished alone.

"Oh no, your hair looks even worse now," my mother remarked with a sigh as she returned from the marketplace.

She was followed by my father, who shook his head in amusement. "Well, we've never tamed his hairdo before, so why would that change now?" he said, clapping a hand on my shoulder.

"I could say some choice remarks about your appearances, too," I said, as I placed a hand on Tara's neck. I stared at the way her white scales reflected the colors around her—now they were mostly pink from the setting sun. They were always like that—colored by whatever tinge their environment would cast on them, if only subtly.

I began scratching behind her antlers, and she leaned in contentedly.

"Don't let anything happen to her," I said quietly.

"We won't," my mother said, and my father nodded.

Standing side by side, they somehow looked rather small. Their age was starting to show, I supposed. I didn't really know what else to say.

"Well. Gotta go." I started to walk away, and after a pause, I turned back and threw my arms around my parents' shoulders. Before I could see their reactions, I ran up to the spotted wyvern and jumped into the saddle, taking off towards the sunset—towards Fódlan.

* * *

**White Clouds**

The clouds in the sky were giving way to the crimson embers of the sunset, which were also staining through the verdant forests below. A howling wind battered my cheeks and ears, cutting away all the warmth in my body as I flew over the land.

All the other wyverns had broken free from their tethers and escaped their roost by Garreg Mach as the sounds of war and death reached them—all except the brown wyvern I was now riding. They were more than happy to become my trusty traveling companion once I'd freed them, and the journey had been smooth ever since. I almost forgot how manageable wyverns could be—Seteth really did his due diligence in keeping them trained.

For hours, rooftops, treetops, rivers, and mountains passed underneath me in blurs and blends of color, until moonlit plains began stretching out as far as I could see. My thighs were trembling and sore, but we continued through the night until the city drew close, and then my parent's house.

I dug in my heels gently, and the wyvern descended. We touched down on the ground, and I slid off their back, stumbling to my knees.

"Sorry. I know I ran you ragged," I said, reaching up to pat their panting neck.

I'd returned home, I supposed. I'd returned to Almyra, at any rate. To make my plans work for the coming hard years, I'd need to make use of any connections that I could—including the ones here.

"Claude? Is that you?" My father's voice rang out in the dark.

"What are you doing here? You look awful," my mother said as the two of them emerged from the front door. I was shivering and covered in mud—I hadn't eaten or slept in a good while, either.

After my father took the brown wyvern's reins and led them to the back, I helped myself to my feet, and followed them inside. I brought them up to speed before taking a much-needed bath and collapsing into my bed.

For my first morning in Almyra in a good while, I awoke to an aching and pounding sensation throughout my whole body. It was better than being starved and freezing cold, though. Pushing through my residual fatigue, I got up and began stretching, feeling my joints crack everywhere.

I wanted to regroup and rest after everything that'd happened, but there was no time to waste. My grandfather'd been sick a lot recently. It appeared that the time for me to lead the Leicester Alliance would soon be approaching. However, until that time arrived, I would need to start preparing and planning.

I strode to the back of the house, which looked virtually unchanged from the last time I'd seen it. There was my father's wyvern, fast asleep as usual on the grass, though he'd grown larger and more spotted since the last time I'd seen him. The brown wyvern was still snoozing beside him, which was only to be expected after all the hell I put them through. But then, where was Tara?

I heard a gusting of wind, and a shadow began to grow larger around my feet. I spun around just in time for Tara's taloned feet to kick me in the shoulders as she landed, squishing me on the ground like a puny beetle.

She murmured and whined while I clutched my head, my shoulders throbbing. For a wyvern, that was pretty damn gentle, but…

"Hey, what's gotten into you?" I asked, still wincing as I reached up to scratch her neck. She lowered her head to accept the scritches, sniffing my face intensely. I could hardly believe that she was this happy to see me.

"Ah, so that's why she took off all of a sudden," my mother said as she strolled up from the patio, peering over at us. She paused, now that she saw me in full daylight. "Hey—did you grow bigger?"

"I don't think so," I grunted. I definitely didn't get any taller, anyways. I extricated myself from Tara's claws and rose to my feet, brushing the dirt off my back.

"Has Tara changed since I last saw her? She's never done something like this before," I asked as she snuffled the back of my head, billowing my hair with every breath.

My mother held a hand up to her face thoughtfully. "No, I don't think so. I haven't noticed anything odd about Tara—though I still think that there's something different about you."

"Me? How so?" I said.

"Only you would know, right? I can't put my finger on it," my mother thought aloud. "Maybe it's your face or something. You look more relaxed, I think?"

Shrugging, I reached down to pat the top of the brown wyvern's head. They nuzzled in, still off in dreamland.

"Thanks for all your help," I told them. Tara thudded her giant chin on my shoulder, making my knees buckle. "Hey, don't get jealous! I'll get to you too!"

"Did you really come back just to goof around with your reptiles?" my mother asked as she watched me stand on one foot, petting the two wyverns with my outstretched arms as well as my father's wyvern with my boot. "You should go find your father. He'll be wanting to see you now that you're not covered in mud."

"Right. I know," I said, exhaling deeply. I was impatient to take care of my errands, but this probably couldn't wait.

I found him in his study. When he noticed me, he set his breakfast down on his desk.

"You've grown bigger," he observed.

"Why does everyone keep saying that? I swear I haven't grown any taller," I replied as he stood, looking me up and down. Was there really anything different about my appearance? I didn't think so, but…

"You're much stronger now, after only the couple years that you were away. That's good. Very good. I was worried that you wouldn't survive if you took the throne...but if you keep things up at this rate, I won't have any concerns left."

Right. My mother and father believed that the best way to prepare me for the world was to have me meet it, bend to it, learn how to carry all of its weight on my own. It never occurred to them that the world could change to meet people like me, instead. Maybe it occurred to almost no one. But if it could help even one other person besides myself, then it was something worth striving for.

We were interrupted as Tara's throaty, froggy wails could be heard through the walls of the house.

"You didn't let her inside, did you?" my father asked with a low voice. I raised my hands defensively.

"No, nothing like that! She's just being noisy—I don't know why, though. She's been acting really weird ever since I got back. Have you changed her diet or something?"

He stroked his beard. "Can't say I have. You'd better start training her so that she doesn't stay so clingy."

"Yeah, I know," I said, waving a hand as I started to leave. The sooner I tended to her, the better.

"Just remember this: a wyvern can't trust the rider until the rider can trust them," my father said to my retreating back. I stopped in my tracks. "Something has changed you. Whatever it was, hold onto it. Hold it tight."

"Huh," I said, glancing back at him. "Since when did you start making sense?"

As I stepped out of the house, I found that Tara was waiting in front of me, butt and haunches planted patiently on the ground.

"What? You spent all that time scaring people off, and you're just realizing you're lonely now?" I teased, petting and scratching her neck vigorously with both hands.

Detecting the tone in my voice, she lowered her head to puff hot air onto my head, and I laughed.

"Glad you still have your attitude. I was starting to worry that something was wrong with you." I rested my hand against her neck. After a brief silence, I said, "Hey...wanna try flying?"

She glanced down at me skeptically, but lowered her neck and back towards the ground, and I climbed on before she could change her mind. Before I could grab the reins, she pushed off, chirping and happy with herself while I clung onto her antlers for dear life.

"Alright, you got me. But I'll get you back for that," I said as I groped for the reins that were now flapping and whipping around in the wind. She was completely unbothered, probably because she could detect from my scent that I was excited, too. It was our first time flying together.

My first order of business was to find Nader and his close friends—the ones who'd been kind to me. If they had enough underlings who would follow their orders regardless of who I was, then that was already a lot of manpower under my belt. Whether or not they respected me as a person would be a whole other matter, but I'd take anyone I could get. My parents were surely uninterested in the war, nor would they be expecting to directly help me themselves after all this time.

All things considered, it was almost funny, the way they regarded me now. Before, they'd have gone on about how I still wasn't strong enough, how I'd need to keep proving myself. The kind of "strength" they'd talk about back then seemed to just be one of an almost comical invulnerability, of being able to beat up a hundred enemies and never shedding any tears. It was something that was always impossible for me to obtain—and so, it was always impossible for me to have anyone's help.

But now, I'd come back with a different kind of strength. One that my parents never told me about, but that they were still forced to recognize as soon as they saw me. And I wanted to get stronger. I wanted to chase after my dreams more than ever. And I wanted to be strong for you, too, when you got back.

I urged Tara onward as we outraced the clouds, chasing the sun itself.

* * *

Before, on the night that I looked for you, I'd searched everywhere that I could safely access and spied on Imperial troops to learn about everywhere else. Edelgard was also searching for you, almost tirelessly—almost.

I watched from a safe distance as her shoulders deflated a little upon hearing the latest report from a group of soldiers. She gave them some further orders, sending them away. If Miss Determination herself couldn't find you with all of her resources and accursed stubbornness, then there was little more to be done.

There were no tracks or traces, not even any spatters of blood. It was as if you'd just vanished.

But I knew better. If you wanted to be found, you'd have left some kind of clue. Maybe you were in hiding, biding your time—or maybe you'd been sealed away with magic like before, and were making another wish to return to this world. The possibilities were endless, and I had no means with which to untangle them.

I should have felt afraid...but I didn't. I allowed myself a little smile as I climbed onto the brown wyvern's back, rising away from Garreg Mach into the sky.

This would be my last time searching for you. From now on, I would wait. You said that if you were lost, you would come back to me.

So, whenever you're ready…

Come back.

* * *

Author's note:

Tara's situation is kind of like when you have a Pokémon too highly evolved to listen to you, so you need to get the required Gym Badge first, except it's also not like that at all.

To be honest I'm still unclear on how Byleth went undiscovered for so long during the timeskip, despite many indications that people did look for them. I mean, someone at least looked into the giant hole that appeared during the battle of Garreg Mach that was right there, I hope?


	11. Chapter 11

CW: Racism

* * *

**Interlude**

Darkness...light...things in-between...

A voice was yelling at you, telling you to get up, to stop being like a child. It was the voice that wasn't yours, but that still belonged to you in a way, somehow. Was that right? But then, where was your own voice? Who were you? Who…

As the memories came ebbing back, other voices came to you one-by-one, like droplets falling and echoing into the surface of a still lake.

_Hey, kid. What's that you're drawing?_

_Get a load of this freak._

_Demon...demon! Stay back…!_

_Professor?_

_Chatterbox…_

_You are so much more than the light. You are my…_

_Professor…_

_Greetings, professor!_

_Professor!_

_Teach._

_You like that book, Teach?_

_Hey, Teach!_

_We've got this, Teach._

_Teach…_

_My friend._

You tried to say something back, but you couldn't seem to make a sound.

"_Oh, _I_ see! So only _now _do you find yourself fully motivated!_" The voice that wasn't yours continued to scold you fiercely. "_Why do you scarcely seem to listen to me? Ah, if only I were a perky young man with a low collar, prattling on and on to you about connected hearts, and friendship, and other nonsense. I'd surely have your rapt attention then, hm?_"

You didn't know what she was so upset about, but you tried to appease her. Right...she, too, was a friend of yours. But as she huffed and argued, she started to slip away, like some kind of dream. She was being replaced by motion—and noise—and the cold...

Your eyes opened as a villager shook you awake.

You could scarcely process what he was telling you. Where were your students? Your friends?

Your body didn't want to move, but you moved it regardless. The power that you never asked for had to be used well. You had to keep going, had to defend as many people as you could, had to fight for as many people as you could.

The Goddess Tower pulled at you as you went back to the monastery, the villager's warnings growing more distant behind you. You walked a path that you had tread countless times, but it was crumbling, wounded, the known turned unknown. The landscape was weeping, calling out to you with all the memories that it once held, but you moved without distraction, staring straight ahead.

The grounds of Garreg Mach were empty. A few cats came out of hiding to look at you curiously, falling back behind you like little shadows as you kept going. You didn't know what you would find, and still you had to search. You had to find...something…something...

You kept your mind cold and clear of second-guesses as you climbed up the Goddess Tower, until you reached the top of the stairs.

Someone was there.

In your recent life, you'd grown to know of many different kinds of pain, some of which you were grateful for knowing. For with this knowledge came sweeter things...joy, comfort...affection. Yet there were other types of pain that left you with a kind of helplessness, ungraspable pains that you did not understand.

This pain that now cut through you was a new one.

You didn't recognize the man that stood before you, but you knew who he was.

His clothes looked foreign, but they fit his body comfortably. His jaw looked stronger, his shoulders wider. The posture his figure cut was unbroken and proud. His hair was longer and tamed, swept back by the wind. And as he turned to you, mouth falling open in surprise, you could see that his deep green eyes were older, more certain. Time had left loving fingerprints all over his features.

So many little changes, all without you there.

For five years...that's what that villager had said.

Five years…five years...

As he looked at you, the corners of his mouth lifted. There was that smile that you always fought hard to protect. You traced your eyes along his face for signs of artifice, just as you did all those times before.

His eyes were...

How could he be so happy, after everything that had happened?

"You overslept, Teach!" he said, glowing in the sunlight. "Pretty rude to keep a fella waiting like that, wouldn't you say?"

He...waited? For five years?

There was something else, now, that you were feeling—shock.

You didn't always understand how he could believe in you more than you, yourself, did. But you were grateful for it, all the same.

Smiling in earnest, he spoke as though no time had passed, effortlessly soothing the anxieties that swarmed in your mind. Perhaps things would be alright.

Just moments ago, you were lost. Now, the world was right again. There was something to hold onto, something to move towards.

You stepped out into the light that surrounded him. As always, you would follow his light.

If he only asked, you would follow him anywhere.

* * *

**Dusk Stars**

I had no Fódlan currency when I'd arrived in the Leicester Alliance, so I found the nearest fighting tournament and entered myself in it for the prize money. Compared to the life-or-death situations I'd found myself in as I grew up, this was a cakewalk—full of angsty brutes who wanted to whack people with swords to make themselves feel better, or weak-kneed children of nobility who felt pressured to prove themselves. Their lack of experience made things easy enough, and even as they got stronger further into the tournament, their lack of mental fortitude made it easy to throw them off.

As I entered the arena for the grand finals, however, I realized that my well of easy marks had just dried up. The woman I was facing held herself differently...she looked tough, alright. I could probably keep her at bay with some arrows to get a sense of her movements, and then figure out how to guide her movements into a trap.

But before I could draw my first arrow, she threw her sword right at my head with terrifying strength and sprinted forward at the same time. The sword wobbled in place by my cheek, embedded into the wall behind me. She'd missed on purpose. Even as I realized that, it was hard not to dodge away from the blade on reflex, right into where she was already waiting with a drawn rapier. She whipped it past my bow, the thin blade bending and snapping back into shape as it sliced through my bowstring. And that was that.

"What's your name, boy?" she asked me as she tugged her sword out of the wall and sheathed it. The tournament organizer handed her the prize money, but to my surprise, she dumped all of it right in my hands.

Was she flirting? No, that was a pretty hefty sum of money to just throw away like that. Wait, was she trying to get me to owe her something? A scam, or forced labor, perhaps...

"Sorry, but my parents are paranoid about me giving the family name out to anyone. They're a bit eccentric like that," I said as I pushed the sack of money back into her arms. Unfortunate as it was to give up the cash, I could earn it elsewhere. I didn't want to chance anything unless I knew what she was about.

She frowned at me, looking genuinely confused, when a bell began to toll.

"Oh, crap! I'm late," she said, palming her forehead in consternation. "Sorry, boy, but I don't have time to argue. Just take the money and get yourself a new bowstring, alright?" She dropped the bag and took off before I could respond.

I rubbed the back of my neck. What was I supposed to do, now? The organizer was collecting more names for another tournament and kept shooting me glances that seemed to be telling me to leave. Grabbing the money, I looked around as I left the arena. Seeing that the scary lady was indeed gone, I walked as casually yet quickly as I could to the marketplace, where I could do some shopping and start on the next part of my plan.

It was a strange way to start my first day in Fódlan, and the day was only going to get stranger.

* * *

"What is the meaning of this?" an old man said as he stood from his chair. Pale, balding, with a giant set of rings on both of his hands—yep, he fit my mother's description, even after all the years since she'd last seen him.

The four other nobles that surrounded him were staring at me as I was being dangled in the air by a pair of knights, who'd only managed to pounce on me once I ambled through the front doors. Apparently, one does not simply stroll up to Duke Riegan.

My eyes widened when I saw that the same scary lady from the tournament was one of those seated at the roundtable. So she was a noble this whole time! No wonder she didn't need the money.

At the moment she was as nonplussed as I was, but she held silent for the time being, watching to see how things would unfold—watching to see what I was going to do.

"Gramps! I finally found you!" I said cheerily. Best to lean into the truth as much as possible. Even the smallest of lies could quickly spin out of control.

"Quiet, you!" one of the knights said, tightening her grip on my shoulder. "My apologies, Duke Riegan. This stranger must be some kind of charlatan, or an assassin of some sort. We have no idea where he came from."

"Forgive us for allowing him to elude our capture," the other knight added, with a slight bow of his head. "We'll dispose of him straightaway!"

My grandfather held up a bejeweled hand to silence the pair of them as he scrutinized me up and down. "He eluded your capture? Do you mean to tell me that this scruffy fool managed to get past the guards, the maids, and the other knights, all by himself?"

It wasn't that difficult. Now that I had the money to buy myself some posh, local-looking clothes, I just held myself importantly and acted like I knew where I was going, and most people didn't pay me any mind.

"U-uh—" they both stammered, stiffening.

"My apologies," the female knight repeated, almost frantically. "We didn't realize—"

"We don't know how it happened!" the other knight exclaimed.

"I can see that," Duke Riegan sighed, before turning to me. "You must be very skilled. Well, whatever you were sent here to do, you'd better tell me who you work for. In return, I'll employ you under my service instead, and give much better pay than what you're being paid now."

He reacted pretty much as I'd have expected from anyone with common sense. It was too bad that, in cases such as these, common sense could lead people away from the truth.

"I work for no one. I'm your grandson, Claude von Riegan, the son of your daughter Tiana von Riegan, and I'm here to declare myself as your heir," I said, staring him in the eyes.

At the name "Tiana", his expression darkened, and everyone else began murmuring to each other in surprise.

"And what of it?" he said. "So you know my daughter's name, as plenty do. But you surely realize that we look nothing alike."

And thank goodness for that.

"Of course. But I can prove that I'm your grandson," I said, having prepared for this moment. "Ask me anything about my mother. Her likes, her dislikes, all the pets she ever owned, where her scars are and when she'd gotten them, the person she married—"

He stiffened uncomfortably, as though something had jabbed him in the behind. He waved a rigid hand. "No, no, that's not necessary. All I want to know is this: do you have the Riegan Crest?"

What? My mother didn't tell me about this. Damn it all, of course she didn't think to…

"Uh, well, the thing is...I can't prove that I have it, but I can't prove that I don't have it, either." It was a pretty stupid thing to say, but acting guarded or taking my time with the answer would have been even worse.

"If you can't show me that you bear the Crest of Riegan, then any other proof you may have of your inheritance is moot," Duke Riegan said. "As it is, you've just wasted all of our time." Was it just me, or did he look partly disappointed and...partly relieved?

"Duke Riegan," the male knight said with a bow, "what would you have us do with him?"

His mouth tensed as he looked at me once more, and then he turned away.

"I don't care what you do. Just get rid of him."

"Now, wait just a minute," I started to say. How was I going to get out of this? Shit—I knew Crests were important in Fódlan, but no one'd told me things were so extreme that I'd be _discarded_ without one. But even with all that considered, something still wasn't right about all this...

"Wait." The scary lady finally spoke as she stood commandingly. "Release him. He's my guest."

"Lady Judith," Duke Riegan said, turning to her, "what do you mean by this? Do you know this fool?"

"I've bested him in combat once already today. He poses no threat to you so long as I'm around," she said. "And what's more, we're quite fond acquaintances, despite his knack for stirring up trouble. With all due respect, it would be a personal injury to me if he were harmed."

With all the strange claims and turnarounds, the room was filled to the brim with perplexed and scandalized chatter. How did things get so dramatic so fast? And what did this Judith person want with me? She did seem to garner a lot of respect from everyone in the room...

Ah, yes. Common sense could lead people away from the truth. Even me, on rare occasions. I hadn't considered that she was just a generous kind of person.

"Very well," Duke Riegan said at length, exhaling through his nose. "But he'd better not make a scene like this again. You must take proper responsibility for him." He still wouldn't look my way as he addressed me. "As Lady Judith's guest, you can make yourself comfortable within my estate if she is also present. Just know that you'll find yourself regretting it dearly if you act disgracefully. Now then. Let's resume, shall we?" He raised his voice as he faced the rest of the roundtable.

"Thank you—" I started to say as the knights shunted me roughly out of the conference room. It seemed that such meetings were top-secret noble business.

Now that they were thoroughly mortified, the knights watched me like a pair of hawks. I could scarcely sniff my nose without them looking just about ready to point a weapon in my direction. With that sort of company, I ended up having to wait in an armchair until the whole conference was over, though I was seriously curious about what the rest of the estate was like.

The nobles came pouring out of the doors, all of them casting intrigued and cautious glances my way—all except for my grandfather, who couldn't bring himself to do it. The last to come out was Judith, who looked down at me with a raised eyebrow, hands on her hips.

"Well, long time no see. What am I going to do with you, now…?" As she spoke, my stomach growled loudly. I hadn't eaten or sheltered anywhere in a while—I was kinda banking on this initial venture working. "Ah. Would your 'eccentric' parents be okay with you being my guest for real?" she asked. "You seem like you have a...healthy appetite, and I have some food that needs finishing."

It looked like my grand plans would be put on hold for now, until I could get this Crest business figured out. What an odd mix of good and bad luck...I'd call today a wash, I supposed. Sighing, I looked out of the window behind my chair. The first stars were starting to poke sleepily through the dimming sky.

"You know...I don't think they'd mind."

* * *

"You aren't a very modest guest, I see," Judith observed as she offered me a third plate of food to polish off. I took it gratefully and kept eating. As hungry as I was the night before, I ended up flopping over and falling asleep as soon as I touched my bed, and I was all the more ravenous upon waking up.

I finished gulping my current mouthful and said, "I can be modest enough, under different circumstances. I haven't been that bad, have I?"

"Well, you dribbled over all the nice silk pillows I gave you, for one thing. And you apparently talk in your sleep," Judith said.

"Wait—I do?"

"Damn right, you do. You scared me half to death in the middle of the night, I'll have you know. At first I thought my room was haunted by a ghost, but it was just you, rambling away from down the hall. Honestly. This is why I never want kids of my own. And I don't know who this 'Csilla' person you kept mumbling about is, but…" she trailed off as she looked my way. "Sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have brought it up."

I blinked before flashing a grin. "Oh, it's nothing. Don't worry about it," I said, setting my fork down. I'd lost my appetite. "Hey, so...I'm pretty sure you didn't invite me here to fatten me up and eat me. But was it true that you just wanted company?"

"Is that how you address someone who rescued you?" she said, shaking her head. "You're skilled. Before I had to run to my meeting, I was actually going to ask you if you'd be interested in joining the ranks of my soldiers. It seemed like a waste to have talent like yours be tossed out onto the streets, or worse." She swirled her glass of brandy before taking a sip. Not much of a breakfast, if you asked me.

"Well, I'm in your debt." When I saw her giving me a skeptical look, I added, "Hey, I really mean that! I've been a little sloppy lately, but I really appreciate all of this." I finished my glass of juice before asking, "Why'd you fight me anyways, if you weren't after the prize money? It's not like you got to experience any thrilling challenges by entering, either."

"Oh, that," she said, bursting out into laughter. "One of my friends noticed you looking pretty smug as you fought in the tournament, and asked me to join just so I could wipe that look off your face. An odd sense of humor, that one. Anyway, I saw from your other matches that you're a cunning fighter, so I figured I ought to just finish things immediately before you got a chance to figure me out. At your age, you should take it as a compliment that I took you as seriously as I did."

At my age? She kept talking about me like I was some little kid. Looking at her incredulously, I said, "I don't know if I should. Your attack was so vicious that for a moment I thought you were going to seriously hurt me."

"What, did you expect me to chivalrously let you have the first blow or something? Some people call me Lady Judith, but most know me as the Hero of Daphnel. ...The irony is, you don't become a 'hero' for rescuing kittens. You've got to kill. And the truth is that I've killed younger and more helpless kids than you. Snot-nosed militia rising up, excitable Almyrans along the border, fighting for one reason or another...and they all fall like little toy soldiers. No. I didn't go easy on them, so I wasn't going to go easy on you."

Geez. Was the situation in Fódlan that bad? No wonder so much value was placed on Crests… It sounded like this land needed to know peace, as well.

As Judith stared into her brandy, she lifted it to her mouth and drained the whole thing before setting the glass on the table with a clack.

"Ah. Listen to me, putting such a bleak mood over everything. Never mind all that," she said, rousing herself and clapping her hands on her knees as she stood. "Now that you're more than settled in, you'd better study up to get that Crest of yours to show for Duke Riegan—assuming you even have one. Either way, I don't want you squatting in my place forever. Ugh, if only the Father of Crestology were here...he could probably do all the work for us with one of his analyzer contraptions." She rummaged around in a back room for a few seconds before emerging, tossing me some dusty books on Crests and magic. "These are just from my personal library, so they might not be very relevant to what you need. Tag along with me to Duke Riegan's estate if you need any more."

She clearly wasn't much for reading, judging by her meager collection. Still, I thanked her and got to it. Things weren't exactly going as planned, but I could count my blessings for now.

In truth, I was glad I'd met Judith. Kindness could ambush you out of nowhere like that, in the places you'd never expect. But then, that's the thing, isn't it?

With cruelty, it's just the same.

* * *

In roughly a week, I'd managed to figure out how to make my Crest manifest. So I really did have one of these things...how about that? It took a couple weeks longer to get an audience with my grandfather, but the day finally came that all my patience paid off. Leaning forward and pale, he saw the symbol of my Crest balanced neatly in my hand as it glowed in midair. He eventually leaned back with a deep sigh.

"We need to talk in private," he said finally, rising to his feet. "This way." Waving goodbye to Judith, who just seemed relieved to not have to babysit me any longer, I followed him down the hall to his study, where he ushered me inside and shut the door.

I placed my hands behind my head as I strolled around, taking stock of the impressive bookshelves that he owned. If things could smooth over between us, then perhaps we could get along rather nicely.

"What'd I tell you? There's no denying I'm Tiana's son," I said. As usual, he seemed to resent that name.

"Again, that's not something that especially matters at this point," he replied wearily. "But now that we know you have a Crest, I'd be remiss not to admit that you'd be a boon to the Alliance."

"Right... So, I'm getting the strong impression that you and my mother didn't really get along."

"Oh, we got along great. She was my pride and joy, that one," Duke Riegan replied with a glower. "_She_ was the one who decided to toss her own family aside. I'm guessing your father is the tramp she eloped with?"

"Tramp, huh?" I wasn't sure if I was amused or uncomfortable with my father being called that. "She did elope with my father, yes. She never regretted it, either, if that means anything to you."

His eyebrows relaxed a bit as he began to massage his temples tiredly. "I suppose she's happy, then. That makes one of us. And you didn't gab about your parentage to anyone else, did you? Or where you came from?"

I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. His tone of voice wasn't particularly promising. "Well, my parents said they didn't want to be dragged into this whole mess—my mother especially. They asked me not to tell anyone."

"So they have _that_ much sense," he said, putting a hand to his back as he sank into an ornate, cushioned chair.

"Would it be so bad if I were to tell anyone from here?" I asked. I still was intending on staying true to my word to my parents, but...I had to know.

Duke Riegan shot me a forbidding look. "Listen here. I had my suspicions about your father, and I told your good-for-nothing mother not to go anywhere near him. She didn't listen, as you know by now. And who do you think was left to handle damage control? When I traced where she'd run off to, my worst fears were confirmed. To protect the Riegan name, I had to make sure that no one else knew—I pretended she never even existed. And I would have gone on pretending, had Godfrey not died. Almyrans are animals. They're beasts. And to think she actually bred with one… Do you understand the rage I'm feeling right now? The humiliation? Of course you don't. I would have been happy pretending that you never existed, had your Crest not manifested."

Though I should've braced myself more properly, every word struck me harder, like blow upon blow. Here, too...even here. Maybe everywhere. Was there anywhere I belonged? Any place where I was free from this—from moments like this? Heat and pressure began building in my head, ringing in my ears.

"Fortunately for you, and unfortunately for me," he continued, "I'm in desperate need of a successor. So long as he has a Crest, I can accept a half-beast of a grandson if he proves to be half-competent. But I would sooner die with no heir than have the Alliance know that my bloodline is mixed with an Almyran's. If you know what's good for you, you won't tell a soul."

* * *

I settled into my grandfather's estate, but in the first couple of days, I spent most of my time outdoors, far away from him. I'd go on long horseback rides outside of the reaches of Derdriu, and find a secluded spot where I could think. A grand tree leaned on the edge of a drop-off in the wilderness, and right past the drop-off, under the tree's roots, was a small ledge that I would perch on, where I would look out at the distant ocean. I'd never seen anything like it before. Its deep turquoise waves reached across the world to far-off lands, connecting all of us, in a way. Even if we didn't know it. Those mysterious waters hushed back-and-forth on the rocky shore below, like they knew some kind of secret that was beyond most people. I would practically hypnotize myself watching this new sight, using it as a sort of mental balm for how shitty I felt.

I decided that I'd stick it out for at least a year. That was the minimum, no matter how painful it got. I would shadow my grandfather and learn about Fódlan and why it's become this way. If I could grow to understand that much, then maybe I could start making moves to fix things. I had power now, after all—an inheritance that would come much sooner than the Almyran throne, yes. But more importantly, in spite of the strong hatred that also persisted here, no one in Fódlan knew what I was. That in itself already gave me more power than I've had in my whole life. No matter how this power made me feel, I would use it. I would use everything that I had. Old resources, new resources, old connections, new connections. I'd reach towards that distant, new dawn of mine, ideally with allies at my side to make it all happen.

But if I really had to, I'd reach towards it alone.

* * *

**Verdant Wind**

During the years that I prepared and waited for you, I had some time to mull over my "curse" and comb through my memories, trying to parse out what it all meant. By now, I had some solid guesses on where it had come from, but it honestly hadn't bothered me in ages. I couldn't remember the last time I'd coughed, though I knew better than to think I was cured forever.

That being said, even if it came back full-force this very moment, nothing could dampen my mood right now.

I knew you'd come back. I knew it. And you looked the same as you did before—even with your handsome face stuffed almost to bursting with food.

You kept insisting that we split the food I brought fifty-fifty, but you clearly needed it more than I did. Besides, now that I finally had you back, I was a little too excited to be all that hungry.

You looked a little sad as I described all of the strife and goings-on during your absence, so I changed the subject and started recounting old tales that my father would tell me when I was a boy. As you swallowed another mouthful of food, you began staring at me rather pensively.

"...What? What is it?" I asked.

"It's nothing. Just...you looked so different when I first saw you in the Goddess Tower. I almost didn't recognize you, at first. And when I saw that it was you, I...I felt how long I was asleep."

"Ah." Your voice was sounding a little strained. Had my appearance really changed so drastically? "I can—I'm not too attached to the beard, if you don't like it," I said, raising a hand to my face subconsciously. Wait, what was I saying? That obviously wasn't what you needed to hear.

You smiled and shook your head. "I'm getting used to it. I'm just glad that...you're still you. That you're still my friend. And your new appearance really does suit you. You look good."

"Ah, well," I said, pushing down the warmth that was rising in my face, "I suppose that means I have you beat as far as makeovers go, yeah?" I nodded towards your light green hair.

"You may be right about that," you said warmly. "You're even wearing my favorite color."

"Your favorite—you have a favorite…?" I started to say, when it came to me. I glanced down at my gold-tinged clothes. Had that conversation really been that long ago? "Right. So I am."

I looked back up at you—at the face of my dearest friend.

"Hey, Teach?"

"Yes?"

"...I'm glad we're together again."

* * *

Author's note:

I'm never fond of using light metaphors in my writing, just 'cause it's so cliched-though maybe the better way to describe it is ancient. It's hard to deny how fundamental it is to literature throughout history and around the world, so much so that it's downright foundational. As it is, it's a motif that's used so much in FE3H that I couldn't not put it in here. That's show biz!


	12. Chapter 12

CW: Biphobia, implied NSFW shenanigans

* * *

**Dusk Stars**

Part of being of a noble house, I came to realize, was being pursued by potential suitors, all eager to rise in status. Though my eccentric nature and the mysterious circumstances of my appearance deterred most, there were still more girls vying for my attention than I'd ever experienced in Almyra, and I wasn't exactly complaining.

I didn't spare much time to these matters, but when I felt like it, I'd probe their interests, their motives, and whether we seemed to share any of those things in common. Most of them were playing the game for marriage and status alone, which was fair enough, but not of any use to me. I broke off things with them as nicely as possible, before things got too far. To my surprise, a couple other girls weren't interested in marriage at all. They were experienced in the art of being "improper", as some gasping noble grannies might say, and were seeking to further said experience. So long as there were no misunderstandings or hurt feelings, I was...let's say...enthusiastic. And it was fun.

It was fun…huh.

As I strolled through the streets of Derdriu on a typical sunny day, the thought occurred to me that something may have been amiss.

In the fairy tales that my father would read to me as a boy, all the human characters wound up married in the end. I more or less expected that I'd be married by the time I reached adulthood, too. But these assumptions of mine didn't seem so obvious, anymore. I certainly couldn't imagine what being tied up to someone would be like, let alone think of anyone I'd want to tie myself to.

I'd long outgrown the grabbiness and desperation of my childhood. I had dreams to reach for—dreams that sustained me. But all that being said, my attitude towards love hadn't been replaced with indifference, either.

I realized that I didn't know how I felt about it anymore, aside from thinking that it sounded kind of fun, kind of grand, like the sort of thing that people ought to treat with reverence—but that was an odd, detached way to think about it, wasn't it?

The city and the ocean passed by me as I walked in random directions, following only the path of my thoughts. At the end of the day, all I knew for certain was that I didn't know what love was supposed to be like, or if it was something I was even meant to have.

Taking a deep breath of the salty ocean air, I noticed a chestnut-haired boy was looking my way. He was a few meters up ahead, leaning on the outside of the smithy—probably a family business he was part of.

Lately, every time that I came through here, he'd watch me from this same spot, often with an apple in hand that he tossed up and down. Maybe for his lunch break, I was guessing.

Today, instead of walking past like usual, I slowed to a halt. He didn't look hostile—didn't seem to be judging my braid or earring or anything like that, as those from Fódlan often did. So then, why all the staring? We looked at each other for a few seconds longer, before he cracked a smile. He tossed the apple he was holding in my direction, and I caught it with one hand.

I performed a grin before I raised it to my mouth and took a bite.

* * *

"Ow! What's your problem?" he asked as I pushed him away. The sweat running down my neck and chest had gone cold.

I lifted my hand from my mouth and ran it back through my hair, concentrating on my breathing.

"Hey, sorry, it's…nothing personal. I just...I think this..." I stopped myself before I could say it—that it was a mistake. I still had that much sense, at least. "I think I should've left this as a one-time thing—for me, personally. Sorry."

"I'm sure," he said with a resentful sarcasm. I couldn't see his facial expression in the darkness, but he sounded hurt. "Whatever. I should've known you weren't serious about this. You were just experimenting. Well, congratulations. The experiment was a success, and now you know."

"That's not what—I don't know what this was. But it wasn't that." I at least knew that much, but at the same time, I didn't want to be discovered—I didn't want to learn his name—I didn't want to fall into a routine. I didn't want to make memories outside of these brief encounters.

Breathing, in and out, and in and out.

"Don't—just don't," he said. "You don't have any idea. This isn't fun and games for me. I can't just switch it off like you can." He hadn't moved, hadn't done anything, but it felt like he'd just hit me. He kept talking, sounding like he was about to crumble apart, start sobbing—whether from anger or from sorrow, I had no idea. "My father doesn't look at me anymore. Almost no one looks at me anymore. They don't say anything. They won't even tell me they think it's disgusting. But they...they never look at me anymore. You were the first person in a long time who has. But you're nobility, and everyone knows that you like women. You can just run off, and get married to any girl you want, and live it up for the rest of your life."

Live it up? Was that really what I was doing? Had I ever "lived" anything close to what he was describing?

"So that's what you really think," I said with a smile. "Well, I guess you're right. You've got to be. After all, you're a whole, complete person. Not like me. I can only ever be half of anything. Right?"

I probably shouldn't have said that, but it didn't look like he understood what I was talking about, anyways. He wouldn't look my way.

I had to go around him as I left his room, grabbing my clothes on the way out.

I finished the last buttons on my shirt as I stepped outside, and I kept walking straight ahead.

The sky above was touched by just a hint of silver, indicating that the sunrise would arrive, soon enough. This was my favorite time in Derdriu, actually—right before the dawn.

On nights that I couldn't sleep, I'd sit on my window balcony and look out at the sky during this time. The stars felt as lonely in Fódlan as they did in Almyra, but just as constant, too. And the city would always be softened and muffled. There was the hush of the ocean waves in the distance, and the rest was usually silent. It was an almost innocent feeling—for all anyone knew, no one was hating each other, or hurting each other—everyone was just sleeping, dreaming.

Now the hollow, echoing sound of my footsteps on the cobblestones was the only addition to the quiet of that morning. With each step, I reminded myself of what I wanted, what that new world I envisioned would be like, what I should do next. Sometimes the path seemed clear as day, and other times it seemed endless, twisting, lost in the weeds. And if that path were to ever become lost to me completely, would I become lost, as well?

Arriving at the edge of the harbor, I sat on a dock, dangling my legs over the edge just above the water.

My past, and all those terrible memories that came with it, felt far away. The future I wanted felt far away, too. And now I was sitting in a foreign land alone, a speck in a crushingly vast and beautiful landscape, and this moment, too, felt far away. Even how hurt I'd felt just moments ago, when that boy said those things to me, felt far away.

For a moment, I buried my face against my clenched hands, my knuckles hard and tightened against my closed eyes and forehead...but before long, I reminded myself that I had to breathe, and I lifted my head up, tilting it back to look at the sky.

My grandfather was suggesting I go to Garreg Mach to improve my abilities as a leader. He didn't say it out loud, but I got the sense that he was skeptical of my ability to keep the Alliance unified. I could get along with a lot of people, but many others found my casual demeanor and outlandish tendencies to be off-putting. This'd be a way to accelerate me getting properly Fódlan-socialized, I supposed. The thing was, I was starting to think that going to Garreg Mach was a good idea, too, though not for the same reasons that my grandfather had.

I wanted to get closer to the Church of Seiros, to see what it was really all about...but I was also hoping I'd be able to meet someone there who might be helpful. Someone who might be...interesting.

The impending sunrise was stealing more and more light from the stars, and they began to dwindle until there was only one that was left clinging to the sky. I watched patiently, waiting to see how long it took for it, too, to fade away.

* * *

**Verdant Wind**

You and I fell right back into step with each other as we threw ourselves into resisting the Empire, with the rest of our trusty Golden Deer beside us. Everyone kept their promise to return, after all...though you seemed to have no doubts that they would. It was always so easy for you to believe in the people you cared about. It's been like that from the start, hasn't it?

The war was a terrible situation, but now that there was no avoiding it, resisting the Empire would naturally unify Fódlan. We could turn this around and make something out of all this bloodshed. I'd been thinking about this for a long time, ever since you disappeared—ever since I asked myself how I could make things right.

There was a level of appropriation here, of course. And in exchange for this appropriation, there were promises that I'd made to myself as we started fighting in the war, promises that I swore to keep. I promised not to lower the others' morale by doubting myself. I promised not to hold a grudge towards anyone that we were fighting. I promised to try and see into the enemy's head as much as possible, to see if they could be won over, first. I promised that no matter what tactics I would end up using, I would at least be honest with you about them. And you...as you fought, as you killed, you looked like you were holding your own promises close to your heart, as well.

After we wrested the Great Bridge of Myrddin from the Empire's grasp, I'd dragged you just about everywhere in the Alliance as I rallied all the noble leaders towards aiding our cause. I made sure we didn't have to rough it out too bad, taking full advantage of the nobles' customary hospitality to make sure we had a place to stay each night.

That taciturn demeanor of yours that so many had demonized in your youth was now being upheld as the pinnacle of composure and culture—all because of the prestige of having been recognized by the Archbishop. It's a sad and funny world, yeah? Well, I couldn't exactly act like I was surprised by any of this—this was exactly what I was banking on happening, as awful as it was when one thought about it too hard.

"Oh, I do hope you'll stay the night," said Lord Alaric, a minor noble, as he clapped his hands together. You and I had finished our meeting with him, and had just turned to leave—or at least, we'd given the appearance of doing so. He added, "I'll be entertaining other guests as well this evening, so I assure you, there will be no imposition—none at all!"

"Really? Well, only if you're sure," I said as I glanced at him sidelong, smirking with just half of my mouth so that only you would see. The major nobles were the most important to meet with during the day, but for the evenings when we wanted something cushy to replenish our energy, the minor nobles were the ones to seek out. The big shots were now preoccupied, saddled with organizing their troops and resources as they followed Count Gloucester's example. Conversely, the lesser nobles had far less to do and were all but jumping at the chance to win over your good graces.

"I insist! We cannot have the professor wandering the countryside at night—no, that would not do at all!" he said.

I turned to you and gave you a wink. "What does the professor think? Is this acceptable?"

"We greatly appreciate your generosity," you said, with a smile and a nod.

Lord Alaric looked pretty pleased with himself—no doubt it'd raise his standing once people saw that he'd done the Archbishop's purported successor a favor.

"Your rooms have already been prepared—right this way, if you please." He flourished with his arm as he led us out of his council room and down the hall. "Food and drink will of course be provided, as well as extra provisions for your travels—but if I may be so bold, I would be delighted if you not only rested this evening, but also attended the festivities that I have planned. There will be entertainment for my guests in the main hall of the estate, and I think that it will be to your liking, as well."

"That sounds great," I said, anticipating the vast amounts of food that I would gladly be consuming later. My expectations that evening, however, would not only be met, but exceeded.

A lot of Fódlan cuisine could be on the bland side, but this was a more flavorful meal, with five courses. I ate until I was stuffed. Some of the nobles had taken notice, and were shooting me reproachful glances. You'd eaten an impressive amount as well, meanwhile, only to earn looks of astonishment and respect.

"Thank you all for joining me tonight," Lord Alaric said, standing up at the head of the table. He raised a glass towards us. "It especially pleases me to have Professor Byleth Eisner, the representative of the Church of Seiros, here with us. Now please, enjoy some music and dance," he said, clapping his hands. Music suffused the night air as musicians began to play. Some of the nobles flocked from the table to the middle of the floor as they began to waltz, eliciting polite and subdued applause from the rest of us who were still eating.

Not seeming to notice the fact that all the dancing pairs were comprised of one man and one woman, you stood up and extended a hand towards me. Was this to get back at me for pulling you onto the dance floor all those years ago, during the ball at Garreg Mach?

I smiled up at you. That feeling you gave me whenever you looked at me—it was a dangerous one. It felt like everything was already in place, that everything was safe. But the truth of the matter was, the world wasn't quite there yet.

I grasped your hand, but instead of standing as well, I tugged down on your arm and pulled your head by mine.

"Later," I whispered in your ear, eyelids lowered. You nodded without complaint, as always.

"Whatever is the matter?" Alaric said as he took notice of you standing by me. "Are you in need of something?"

"I just wished to relieve myself," you said, copying the subtle touches that imbued noble speech. Were you doing that on purpose, or had we just spent way too much time among their kind? We'd better be careful, or else our speech patterns might end up sticking that way.

"Of course! I'll escort you," he said as he led you away.

I watched your retreating back as you glanced back at me. Turning around to reach for my glass, I found it was already drained to just a couple drops at the bottom. That was too bad—I was pretty thirsty.

* * *

I stirred from my post-meal nap with a book on my face. Shaking it off, I looked around blearily and found myself in the quarters that Lord Alaric assigned me. Right. I loosened my cravat and tossed it to the side, swinging my legs over the side of my bed and blowing out the now-dwindling candle on my bedside. Darkness flooded the room. Seeing the pale shadows cast from my window, I could see that the moon had risen high. The others were definitely asleep by now—all was silent.

Sliding my door open and closed, I crept just a couple meters down towards your room. Once I drew close, I could hear a softly singing voice from the other side of the door.

"On time's throne, you alone are cut by the blade's two sides… Reminisce words you miss, spoken to the bloody tides…"

A shiver ran down my neck and back.

"Teach?" I whispered. I knocked once on your door for courtesy, and let myself in.

Like in my room, your bed was a monstrosity of pillows and lace, with a canopy draped above it as the cherry on top—completely in contrast with the simplicity of your silhouette, outlined in silver in the moonlight. Your back was turned to me as you sat there, staring out the window. When you turned your head over your shoulder to look at me, for a moment you appeared almost unrecognizable, like a mirage or an apparition. Something incorporeal that couldn't be felt or touched.

Despite how graceful you looked, I was troubled. I hadn't felt like you were unreachable for a very long time.

"You never told me you could sing," I said in a hushed voice as I closed the door behind me.

"You should have attended more choir practice," you replied.

"Heh. Well, fair enough." As I drew closer, the familiarity of your face returned—the face of an old friend—even though the strange ethereal glint to your eyes, as though filled with the ghosts of stars, remained. I plopped myself down beside you on the bed. "What was that song just now? That melody...it's unlike anything I've heard before—not in my homeland, or in Fódlan."

You said, "The night of the ball, five years ago...I heard Lady Rhea singing this song. I don't quite remember the words, so I made my own."

"The ball, huh? That song must have made quite an impression on you if you remembered it from so long ago."

You nodded, the silvered tresses of your bangs shifting across your eyes. "Do you remember when I said there was a goddess that infused me with her power?"

"What do you mean, 'do you remember'? That's not something one easily forgets, my friend," I said, rubbing the back of my head.

"Well, she told me that she wrote the song—the one that Lady Rhea sang."

My hand dropped to my chin as I took this in. "That's strange. I wonder what it means, that Rhea knew of it. Maybe it was passed down by the goddess onto the line of archbishops? It might be nothing, but it could be yet another question to ask once we find her." I looked out the window at the full moon. "And now you wrote your own song. Are the lyrics about yourself? Or are they about this goddess that you keep talking about? From what I heard, it seemed…" You were staring intently at me with your ghostly eyes as I turned back to you. "Hey. Just...don't grow distant from me...alright?"

"I'm right here," you said, shaking your head.

"...You are, aren't you?" I sighed. "Well, I might just be getting lost in my own head, like usual. I dunno, have you—have you ever felt like this about someone before? Like they're far away?"

"Like they're far away…?" You tilted your head. "I think I know what you mean. When I spoke with you for the very first time, perhaps that is what it was like. But it's not something that can't be overcome." A nostalgic smile had touched the edges of your lips.

"...I see. That's good to hear, then." I hesitated, before returning your smile. "Then tell me, how do you overcome a feeling like that?"

"I think I might know a way." You stood from the bed, offering your hand to me once more. "Would you like to find out?"

"You don't need to ask," I said quietly as I took it, letting you pull me closer. Your hand touched upon my waist as I rested mine on your shoulder, our free hands finding each other and interlocking as we began to dance.

Wanting to understand you in order to feel close to you...in truth, had it always been that way?

"It's been too long, my friend. I hope I'm not too rusty," I said as you gently spun me around. Though there was no music, we moved as though we didn't need any.

You dipped me to the floor in one graceful motion, and I closed my eyes. For just a moment, I could feel your breath on my neck before you lifted me back up.

"I've been wondering," I said as we resumed twirling and swaying, "how did you get to be so good at this kind of dancing?"

You looked off to the side, as you often did when you were embarrassed. "I, um...I practiced in my room a lot before I went over it with you. For hours, actually. I didn't want to instruct you in something I knew nothing about…"

I raised my closed hand in front of my mouth as I stifled a laugh. "That sounds about right. You're unbelievable, you know that?"

Your hand tensed on my waist. "Oh. Because I'm...ill-prepared?"

"No, no—I think you're brilliant." I returned my hand to your shoulder and squeezed it.

"Ah. Thank you," you said, sounding a bit unsure. "Though there is still a lot that I could improve..."

"Really, don't worry about it, my friend. You're the only one who can make this kind of dancing fun," I said. I lowered my hand to your waist and dipped you slowly and gently, supporting your weight with my arms. Your lips were slightly parted as I pulled you upright.

"This kind of dancing…" you echoed. "Actually, there is something I've been wanting to ask… Do you remember the other way that you danced at the ball?"

"The other way? ...Oh, right! That was…" I paused, astonished that you brought it up at all. I nearly forgot about it, myself. "That was some experimental stuff mixed with styles from my homeland. I'm surprised you remembered that detail, of all things."

You tilted your chin down, your eyes looking away shyly.

"Could you show me...how to dance like that?"

We stopped spinning, your fingers sliding hesitantly away from my waist. My face was starting to feel warm.

"Sure," I said. "Just keep in mind that there is no leading or following in this kind of dancing—just harmonizing."

You nodded as I took your wrists in my hands. I began bending your arms, guiding them in different movements.

"This is how most guys like to dance. If you want to look more macho, move like this, or similarly—I highly encourage improvisation once you get the hang of things."

You stared at me in concentration as you tried moving your arms on your own, copying what I just showed you. If only I had as easy a time of concentrating…

"Hey, that looks pretty good! Now," I swallowed to gather myself, placing my hands on your hips, "back and forth like this—no, more like this." I readjusted my hands so that one was pushing on your back, and the other was against your stomach. I could feel your muscles contracting and shifting under my palms. "The stomach and hip movements are things that a lot of ladies like to do. But there's nothing wrong with fellas like us showing them up on the dance floor, is there?"

You smiled as you slowly repeated what I showed you.

"That's—that's good."

"It's pretty difficult," you observed. "You were doing both kinds of dance moves at the same time, right? That's impressive."

"It just takes practice. If you want, you can start doing just one, and try to introduce the other in bits and pieces, like…" I danced for you a bit, showing what I meant. Though it didn't do all that much good, I had to close my eyes so that I wouldn't feel too self-conscious. When I opened them, your curled hand was resting in front of your mouth—in thought, perhaps?

"Not too bad when it's broken down like that, right? So, what do you think?" I said, a little out of breath.

You stayed frozen in place for a few seconds more, before you dropped your hand down to your side. You had a very serious look on your face as your eyes gazed into mine.

"You're very beautiful when you dance."

...What? I thought with the serious way you were looking at me that you'd had some grim realization. Or...was _that _the grim realization?

Maybe I should've said all of that aloud just now, to lighten the mood...though as much as my mind was rushing to fill the air around us with quips, I couldn't ignore the real reason why I wanted to change the subject.

"Thanks. I, um...thanks," I said. Had I made a mistake? Had I not fully considered how you were feeling? But maybe it wasn't anything all that serious. Maybe. Silence pressed in on my ears, with the awful weight of a wyvern's stilled body. "It's late. I think I should go…"

As I backed away from you, the heart-pounding feeling that radiated through my body quickly destabilized into something else. A strange, suffocating sensation uncoiled itself from the bottom of my lungs and shredded through the rest of my chest, dry and numbing. I started to cough, and some flower petals came out—then more, and then more—

I covered my mouth with my hands as I tried to smother the noise. Clumps of bloodied white wisps spilled past my palms and fingers. The coughing bent my body in half, built more and more pressure in my chest, until I grew lightheaded and dizzy. You caught me and held me upright before I could fall, pressing my head to your chest as I clutched onto your shoulders.

"Help! Someone—" you started to shout, when I shook my head urgently.

"Don't—call the—m…!" I breathed out. You stared down at me in shock.

I didn't want them to see me in your room at this hour. I didn't want their questions or their suspicion. Not when we still had so much that we needed to do. Not when you'd just earned everyone's respect.

Your hands glowed with energy as you tried to use your healing magic on me, but the coughing continued.

"Claude, please—" you started to say, but I tightened my grip on your shoulder.

"D—on't..."

Though I knew it pained you, you acquiesced. You resumed using your faith magic, only able to close up the superficial abrasions in my throat and mouth as more opened up under the serenai petals. Through it all, you held me against you tightly.

The more you held onto me, the worse the coughing became.

Eventually, the fatigue of fighting the cough spread through my limbs, and the inflammation in my chest slowed, stilled, and finally went dormant once more. So much for restoring our energy on Lord Alaric's hospitality. I was too tired to think—too tired to read into what you'd meant earlier, or the dancing, or everything else. But I knew that once I recovered, I'd have to. I had to be responsible. Because if I continued to act in ignorance...if we continued in this way...there might not be any going back. And the last thing I'd ever want would be to injure your feelings out of carelessness...or to put you at risk.

When we departed Alaric's estate the next morning, it looked like you wanted to say something, but you staid yourself.

We ended up succumbing to a stilted and uneasy silence, which was only broken by the sound of my bloodied coughs.

* * *

Author's note: Been listening to Hyakkei a lot lately, especially "Yellow Jackets", which contributed a lot to some tweaks in the tone I made for this chapter. I love how bittersweet their songs feel, and how chill the melody is even while the drum gives a very passionate and intense drive below the surface.

Alaric's name used to be Ulbrecht, but I had to change it due to how similar it was to the mentioned character in-game, Albrecht. I swear, all the new lore and names the DLC/DLC characters are dropping is gonna be the death of me...


	13. Chapter 13

**Verdant Wind**

As the day that we'd march on Enbarr drew closer, I tried to keep up everyone's spirits. We didn't have food rations to spare, but I'd found a whole cellar's worth of old, nasty wine that was preserved by Garreg Mach back when it was more church-y.

Though the stuff tasted foul, most everyone took to it intensely. People not only needed a break from all our preparations—they also needed a respite from seeing so much death. As one could imagine, things got sloppy really fast. The festivities were taking place in disorganized pockets all throughout Garreg Mach, but most of it was centered in the dining hall, where I'd found the cellar in the first place.

I leaned back against the wall, nursing a goblet of convincing-looking juice as I watched Raphael try to eat a whole table. I'd sipped a few alcoholic beverages throughout my life, but it seemed counterproductive to dull my thinking. Oftentimes, that faculty was one of the few things keeping me alive. And even if that weren't a concern, I didn't want anything making me careless—especially around you.

"Alright, alright! I hate to admit it, but I'm not as young as I used to be. I'm pulling out," Judith said as she surfaced from under one of the tables, looking rather green in the face. I'd never seen her look so sickly before. "Ugh! Why does this wine have to taste so awful?"

"I never realized the professor could drink so much," Hilda said as you also emerged and rested your elbows on the table. Aside from having a more relaxed slouch to your shoulders, it didn't seem like the alcohol had any effect on you.

"I'd expect nothing less from Jeralt's kid!" Leonie said with a laugh, when you clapped a hand over your mouth and walked briskly outside so you could puke in the bushes. "O-oh. Nevermind." As she grimaced, she turned around and saw me staring. "Hey, don't act like a stranger! Why don't you get over here and see if you can outdrink me!"

"I doubt you'd get much satisfaction out of that," I said with a grin, my eyes flicking your way as you returned, seating yourself next to Leonie with a pale expression. "I'm not exactly a heavyweight, you know."

"Aw, man," Leonie said, before perking up again when she saw Lysithea huddled against one of the walls. "Hey, Lysithea! Wanna throw back some drinks with me?"

"Hmph?" Lysithea said through her round cheeks as she discreetly shoved a whole cupcake into her mouth. "Mmph—!" She had to pound a fist on her chest as she struggled to choke the whole thing down, before gasping out, "Um...I think I'll decline. I'm in no mood to consume anything that tastes that offensive."

"Fine, fine. Then...you!" Leonie pointed a finger in Lorenz's direction. He looked flabbergasted.

"I would never engage in such a pointlessly savage display!" he protested as she grabbed his arm.

"But I'm not a savage—I'm a friend. Remember?" she said brightly. With that, he sighed as he allowed himself to be dragged to the table.

Everyone got a good laugh as he pinched his nose with one hand and squeezed his eyes shut, taking only the tiniest of noble sips before tapping out. Even you were looking pretty cheerful, considering you'd just emptied your guts a minute ago.

You and I hadn't been spending a whole lot of time together lately, outside of battling and going over schemes and the like. It was best if I enjoyed your company in moderation. Whenever I was around you, it was like I had blinders on—my usual sense and tact would be washed away, and I'd get too caught up in the moment to think properly. Our friendship felt so natural at times that it was difficult to identify what was crossing the line, and what wasn't. And I'd used that to excuse the daydreaming, the closeness, everything...up until a point. And now we'd long since crossed that point, hadn't we?

Our little god of fortune that let us meet each other...couldn't they have let one of us be a woman instead? No, no, it wouldn't do any good to think that way. Far be it for me to look a gift horse in the mouth, after all.

I coughed into a handkerchief, making sure to keep my back straight and to catch the petals that came out. The new additions to our ranks were briefed on my odd condition, of course, but it'd be discouraging for them to see the blood. At least I hadn't had another attack like the one back when we'd tried dancing...though I didn't remember the coughing ever being quite this bad.

I shook myself and looked for a diversion. Now that there was some time to kill, I might as well lift my own spirits.

I ended up commandeering the kitchen, tossing my coat, gloves, and cape aside so that they wouldn't get dirty. The nearby soldiers and knights were shouting requests at me, now that they had the munchies—and since none of them had very good judgment at the moment, everything was starting to smell rather, er, intense.

"Augh! Spicy! Too spicy!" the gatekeeper exclaimed as he stuck his tongue in a cup of water.

"You asked for ten Ailell peppers. What'd you expect?" I said as I tried a spoonful of the chili I'd made. Even for me, it was too scalding to taste anything, and the spiciness and the hot stove were making me start to sweat. I lifted up my undershirt briefly to wipe the base of it along my forehead when I heard a loud banging noise.

"Professor! Are you alright?" Ignatz said. It looked like you'd fallen flat on your face in the middle of the dining hall. "Here, use my handkerchief." You raised yourself on one knee, clutching a hand over your nose as it dripped blood.

"Thanks," you responded as you pinched the handkerchief shut over your nose.

Leonie began helping you up, adding, "I've never seen you eat the floor like that. Why weren't you watching where you were going?"

"Maybe...nevermind," Hilda said with a hum. She called over towards me. "Oh, Cla-a-aude? Do you think you could take the professor and find Marianne so she can heal him up?"

"Why are you asking me?" I replied warily. Just what was she up to? "You know, it might raise the soldiers' morale if you helped out someone on your own, for once."

That seemed to miff her enough. "Excuse me? I help out plenty!" she said, standing up. "Alright, professor, let's go. I mean, what do I know, anyways?"

I watched the two of you leave towards the courtyards, then extinguished the stove as I was possessed by the sudden urge to get away.

"Huh? Where are you going?" I heard someone say as I stepped out by the fishing pond. I took a deep breath of the summer air that rustled through my shirt, listening to the crickets sing out under the scattered shouts of distant partygoers. Having to resist being near you all the time was...tiring.

Stifling a cough, I began wandering around, past the first floor dorms and then the classrooms as I scanned the rooftops for Tara. She'd pretty much made herself at home in Fódlan, but was never satisfied with staying in the roost where the other wyverns were held. Since she bedded down wherever she pleased in the moment, finding her could be a real pain.

After several minutes of searching, I stopped in my tracks outside of the darkened reception hall as I heard your voice echo from inside. Ducking around the corner, I heard Marianne speaking, as well.

"...I think I understand. That's really what everyone thinks of me?" There was a beat, and then she said, "Thank you, professor. I'm...starting to feel a little more confident now."

"I'm glad," you replied. I could hear the thump of your boots and the clacking of Marianne's shoes as you emerged from the doors, just a few feet away from me by the sound of it.

"I...I think I'll go where the others are."

"You should," you said. "Hilda was starting to worry when she couldn't find you."

"I see," she said. I heard her take a couple of steps before halting. "Oh...do you want to join the others, too?"

"...I do. I just wanted to rest, first."

"Okay. Um, see you there, then…"

"That sounds good. Thanks for healing me."

As I realized that I'd been eavesdropping rather rudely, I heard your footsteps coming my way and hurried off elsewhere. Where was that damn wyvern of mine?

I was starting to think about giving up, when I caught sight of a lumpy shadow moving by the cemetery. Uh-oh…

"Tara!" I hissed. Her neck straightened up, indicating that she'd heard me, but she didn't budge. As I strode up to her, I saw that she was only by the steps, and not down among the gravestones...so there was that, at least.

"Come on, it's rude to be here," I scolded. She kept turning her head away from me as she tried to play innocent. "I want to go for a ride. Get up."

She wasn't happy about that, and exhaled loudly through her nose as she plopped her head on the ground.

"Don't go pretending to take a nap, now. You've had the whole week to rest," I said. I bent down to wrap my arms around her neck and pushed up with my legs, trying to lift her head back up with a grunt. "Why—oof—do you—have—to—be this—ugh—way?"

Just as I was about to prise open her eyes to get her to move, I heard you clear your throat from behind me.

"Ah! Hi, there," I said, jumping up and brushing myself off. "You've caught me at a bit of a bad time, my friend. My wyvern's being more difficult than usual—or rather, about as difficult as usual—but that's not important, is it?" I palmed myself in the forehead before I could ramble on any further. "Anyways, we'll get out of your hair. Sorry." You must've been about to visit your parents. And here we were, blocking the way.

"That's alright," you said, looking downwards. You weren't looking me in the eye.

"Hey...what's wrong?" I dropped my hand from my face and took a few steps forward. When you didn't respond, I took a few steps more. "Hey...Byleth?" I hesitated, before bringing my hand up to lift your bangs from your face. The starlight was reflecting in your quivering eyes, shining almost oppressively bright across your pale irises.

"Claude...my memories…" you managed to utter, finally looking up at me. I rushed to grab your shoulders in case you were going to collapse. "The Red Canyon...I know that's not where we are, but I remember it. And there are people I don't recognize...and—and there are people I do. The students, everyone...they're studying, and going to class, and smiling—like they're right here. But they're gone, aren't they?"

I nodded at you silently.

I felt you grow unsteady and took another step closer. You were heavy as you leaned against me, but I let you. Your arms encircled my back tightly as you pressed us closer together, and again, I let you. Even at times like this, you always felt so strong...

As your hair tickled against my ear and your shoulder brushed under my chin, it occurred to me that we were the same height.

The stars in the night sky were blotted out as I closed my eyes. I could feel the heat of your fingers on my shoulder blades through the fabric of my shirt, and I could feel every breath you took against me as we stood there, allowing the flood of your memories to slowly trickle away.

"Claude," you said finally, your voice sounding hard and heavy against the delicate night.

"Yes?"

"I still don't know who or what I am now...or who I'd be without my powers. I at least thought that I'd be powerful enough to protect everyone. But I couldn't save Dimitri. What if I can't save Edelgard? What if I can't even protect you?"

I opened my eyes. "Then don't protect me. Just be here with me. Just be here and now," I said softly. "You're more than enough, Byleth. There's so much you're capable of, with or without the 'goddess', with or without the Sword of the Creator. There's no one like you in this whole world."

There truly wasn't. Though perhaps, then, that was why you had to spend so much of your life alone.

I inhaled sharply to muster up some willpower as I separated myself from you. You looked sad, but...steady. That was an improvement.

"I know I can't just make your problems disappear. This is a lot of complicated stuff, and it's stuff you ought to think about, little by little. But right now, you're taking on too much at once. You're getting overwhelmed," I said. "And trust me, as a master of taking on too much, I would know."

At that, a melancholy smile touched the corners of your lips. A chill traced itself down my spine.

"Ah. Sorry, I should have realized," you said as you saw me shiver. You shrugged off your coat and threw it around my shoulders.

"Oh, that's not...I'm alright, I'm...thanks," I said, my whole body getting warmer as your scent surrounded me.

You seemed rather embarrassed as you tried tugging it all the way closed over my chest, pretty unsuccessfully. It didn't fit me like it used to, I supposed.

I cleared my throat as I backed away from you. "Oh, hey! Why don't I lend Tara to you for a bit?" I said, nudging her in her sleeping head with my boot to wake her back up.

"Your wyvern?" you asked, tilting your head at her as she blinked up at us grumpily.

"Yep! She's a lot more relaxed with new people than she used to be. She'll give you a ride, no problem. Isn't that right?" I turned to her as she sat up and blew hot air from her nose in my face. "...Well, she'll come around, anyways," I said as I patted my hair back down. "See, when I'm feeling something awful, I've found that going on a ride somewhere can help. If you're stuck in the same place all the time, it can get your mind stuck in the same place, too. You should go somewhere, see the sights, and clear your head."

I handed the reins to you, and you grabbed them tentatively. "It'd be bad for the war effort if I died tonight," you said, shaking your head.

"You're not going to die," I said with a snort. "I've fallen out of my saddle plenty of times, but Tara's always caught me. Here, I'll show you how to manage." I guided your hands in mine. "Pull back when you want to slow down. Lean forward when you want to accelerate. Lean left or right to turn in either direction. Pull gently up if you want to ascend, and dig in your heels to descend. The stronger you dig in your heels, the faster you'll drop. Oh, and give lots of pets to boost morale."

I pushed you towards Tara, who spent a few seconds sniffing the top of your head as you stood there stiffly. She promptly tucked her wings in and rolled onto her side so that her belly was showing. ...Wow.

"...I don't know if I should feel betrayed or impressed. She, uh, really likes you," I said, scratching my head. "Hey, sleepyhead! You can get bellyrubs later. Why don't you give our nice friend a lift, huh?" I started prodding her stomach with my boot, which I knew she hated.

With a grumble, she got back to her feet and lowered herself so that you could get on. You stepped up on one of the stirrups, before looking back at me with a bit of uncertainty.

"Will you come with me?" you asked.

"Hm. I don't know if that's a good idea," I said, tossing my hands behind my head. "Raphael could chew a literal hole through the dining hall unless someone sticks around to watch over him." What? Geez, what a lame excuse.

Eyebrows pinching, you nodded slowly at me as if I hadn't just said something incredibly stupid—which was very nice of you—and adjusted yourself in Tara's saddle. You pulled up on the reins, and Tara pushed off the ground and flapped her wings powerfully. As you started to angle upwards, she opened her talons and grabbed the scruff of my shirt behind my head, plucking me into the air as I shouted in surprise. Before either of us could react—and before I could get choked on my own collar—she flicked her foot up, tossing me into the air. You reached out for my hand, only to get jerked around as Tara arced around me in a loop-de-loop, catching me on her back right behind you.

"Claude—are you alright?" you said as you twisted around to look at me.

"Yeah, just...my rear end's not happy about that landing," I said as I rubbed my sore butt, shooting Tara a glare. She roared into the night sky happily, bucking back so that I was forced to grab you to keep myself from falling off.

"Is she...always this lively?" you asked a little breathlessly as we straightened out.

"She's not _supposed _to be," I grumbled over your shoulder. Tara and I had trained together for years, but she was being extra difficult right now. "Well, it looks like I'll be tagging along, after all."

I looked down and saw the monastery shrink away from us as we ascended over the forest nearby, until the moonlight-flecked treetops, too, grew smaller and smaller. I tried not to think about my hands that were clenched across your chest. How did things like this keep happening?

"So...where should I take us?" you asked.

I leaned back and raised my eyes to the starry sky, feeling the wind run past us.

"Anywhere."

We ended up landing on a mountainside, seating ourselves in front of a clear lake that caught the starlight like a mirror. It was a lot cooler up here, but thanks to your coat, I wasn't too chilly. I took some of this time to meditate, while Tara was rolling about among the rocks and grass behind us, scratching off her loose scales without a care in the world.

"You have dreams of your own, right? Ones outside of ending this war?" I finally said as I roused myself, my breath misting on the air. As I caught your gaze, you blinked rapidly as though you'd just been staring.

"My dreams? What makes you ask that now?" you said, turning away.

I stretched my arms above my head. "It hasn't escaped my notice that while I've been blathering on and on about my dreams for a while now, you haven't so much as made a peep about yours. Knowing me, you know I can't just let that slide." I was hoping that looking to the future might cheer you up a little.

"My dream…" Your knuckles grazed your lips as you raised your hand to your chin in thought. "I've...been thinking of something for a while now, actually. There is something I want to do..."

I watched you for a little while. Raising an eyebrow, I said, "Okay...this is the moment when you're supposed to tell me what it is."

A draft danced through your hair, swaying each strand gently around your face. Light from the crescent moon above was outlining the shape of your mouth. I realized you were smiling.

"I can't tell you yet. But I'm hoping that soon…" You shook your head as you seemed to deliberate over something. "Once the war is over, I'll tell you. How does that sound?"

I flopped backwards onto the ground in exaggerated exasperation. "Come on, Teach, you're killing me! You know I don't like being kept in the dark when it comes to anything, least of all you." Seeing the wryness in your smile as you looked back at me, I sat myself back up. "Alright, you've convinced me. Ah, well—I held out on you for a while regarding my own dreams, so if you want me to wait that badly, then I will. We'll call it even."

"You didn't seem to need much convincing," you remarked as I nudged your shoulder with mine.

"You're a master of persuasion—what can I say?" I said, before looking out at the stars reflected in the lake—at how they didn't seem to shine as brightly as you. "Hey...once the land knows true peace and we're both settled down, then I'll help you achieve your dream. No matter what it is—just name it. I owe you that much, at least."

After a pause, you asked me, "What do you mean by that—by 'settling down'?"

I lowered my head as I started examining the grass by my feet. "Well...once we've both found wives, I suppose." My shoulders began to shake as I coughed up serenai petals.

Normally, you would have raised a hand in front of my throat by now, to start healing me...but as the coughing subsided, I realized that you hadn't moved at all. You were staring out at the distance, as still as a stone statue.

"Um, not that we _have _to marry, per se…but there'll be a pretty high expectation of it. It's at least something to consider, right?" I said. "I mean, Marianne has really been able to open up around you. And you and Shamir seem to have a lot in common. And Leonie—"

"That's enough," you said, continuing to look ahead as your hands clenched over your knees. Your voice was gentle, but raw. "I'd rather you didn't talk that way."

"In what way?" I said, a little stunned.

"Like you're testing me to see how I'll react, or like you're trying to get something you want without just telling me what it is. ...Like how you used to talk to me when we hardly knew each other."

"I...I didn't mean it that way. I..." I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. "Look, let's not argue. I don't know if my brain could process you being legitimately upset with me. All I meant was that I hope you'll do the smart thing, and do what's best for you. But I didn't mean to push you or anything. It's not my business what you do with your life."

"Not your business…" you murmured. Your right hand was playing along the fingers of your left hand, pausing below one of the knuckles on your ring finger. "I...suppose so…"

The cold began to settle in between us. I watched you for a bit longer before standing up. "I think we've been here long enough. We should head back." I shrugged off your coat and held it towards you. You stared at the coat in my hand, then at me. After a moment, you took it and rose up, as well.

I located a belly-up Tara and scratched along the underside of her neck. "Come on. It's getting late," I told her. Now that she was in a good mood from all the frolicking, she righted herself without too much hassle. As I straightened the saddle on her back and brushed away the dirt that she'd gotten lodged in it, my hands slowed to a stop.

"By the way," I said, my back turned to you. "I've always wondered...what made you choose to teach the Golden Deer house when you first started out here?"

"At first...? Before I'd really gotten to know you, the only thing that convinced me was a bit of curiosity," you said from behind me. "I wanted to know what it would take...to get you to smile for real."

My breath caught in my throat for just a second. I stared down at my hands, still frozen on the saddle.

"I like it when you smile for yourself, instead of doing it for other people. I hope you never smile for me anymore," you continued.

"You _don't _want me to smile for you...what a strange thing to say out of context," I said with a chuckle, feeling the corners of my eyes lift up, just a little. "But...thank you." I jumped onto Tara's back and offered my hand. As you grabbed it and hoisted yourself up behind me, I playfully added, "You should be careful, my friend. You'll end up making someone fall head-over-heels for you if you keep saying wonderfully strange things like that."

But as we rose in the sky to return to Garreg Mach, I knew.

It was too late for that.

* * *

Author's note:

Lizard-baby Tara just wants two dads, is that too much to ask for?

So ever since I started first uploading this fic, I've been making major edits in the attempt to make everything more cohesive and streamlined. Unfortunately, there were casualties that got put under the cut—one such casualty was a scene where Claude and Byleth get completely schwasted. Another was Claude forgetting to give Byleth his coat back, showing up hungover and wearing the coat to the war council the next day, and Hilda exclaiming that she was right when she sees him wearing it, as she turns to Leonie and tells her that she owes her a week of chores. (Hilda bet that Claudeleth would happen within 1-6 months, while Leonie bet that Claudeleth would happen within 7-12 months. No one bet that it would never happen, because they're both sensible ladies.)


	14. Chapter 14

CW: Violence

* * *

**Interlude**

From the bridge that led between the reception hall and the cathedral, you could see the sun rising above the distant treetops. You took a small pouch from your pants pocket and pulled your father's ring from it, staring at the pinks, purples, and blues that shined in its gems.

As the end of the war seemed to draw near, you took to thinking about the future. First, peace had to come, and there had to be time to mourn. Those from Garreg Mach...the first people outside of your father to ever be kind to you, to ever show any love for you—you didn't want to forget any of their faces—you didn't want to forget any of the precious people who had fallen...

And then...you wanted...you wanted to _want_ things. You wanted to understand yourself—to not follow anyone's lead anymore, but to know where it was that _you_ wished to go. And...

If Claude could be at your side through it all…

The ring in your hand caught the light of the sunrise as you closed your fingers around it. You heard someone's footsteps behind you, and you put the ring away, tucking its pouch back in your pocket.

"Something the matter?"

Claude's voice. You glanced his way.

"Ah, I see. This has something to do with that super-secret dream that you won't tell me about yet," he said as he saw your face.

You weren't entirely sure why he was avoiding you so often lately, but it could have been that you'd made him feel uncomfortable. That was perhaps also why he seemed so interested in having you consider taking a wife, to divert your attentions away from him.

And yet, whenever you spoke with a woman in his presence, you could feel him stop and watch you from a distance with humorless eyes.

"Well, I'll get myself out of your hair—" he said, leaning on the stone wall of the bridge as he collapsed into a fit of coughing, white wisps and blood fluttering down from his mouth like snow. You stepped towards him, only for him to say, "I'm—I'm fine."

You had spent many late nights researching a cure for his condition, to no avail. Why was it getting worse? Was it that he had another illness, in addition to his curse? As his coughing died down, you removed your gauntlet so that you could place your bare hand to his forehead.

"Whoa, there," he said nervously, ducking away from your touch. "I said I'm fine. You don't need to fret."

"Sorry," you said, a wave of distress crashing down on your shoulders. You'd made him uncomfortable again. You should have asked him. You shouldn't...you shouldn't have...

"Hey. Hey. It's alright. It's alright, okay? I promise," he said, grabbing your shoulders when he saw the stillness, the silence that was freezing your body. "I...I don't mean to confuse you by acting aloof or anything. There's just been a lot on my mind."

Your eyes swept over his face. With every week, he looked more and more exhausted, though he put up his sunny disposition for the sake of the others without fail. The only time that he didn't put a smile up was when he was around you, to honor your request of him.

When he was around you…

"Well, I'd better be off," he said, clearing his throat as he let go of you, looking down at his feet. "See you, Teach." You watched him walk away as a thought occurred to you.

Whenever the coughing got worse, it was when he was near you.

Though your heart never beat, you felt something in your chest—a throbbing pang.

Were you somehow responsible?

* * *

Before the final confrontation with Edelgard, you were stopped right outside of Enbarr by a swarm of Imperial troops. It was expected that Edelgard would try to stall for time as she made her own preparations.

"We're greatly outnumbered—which isn't anything new, but it's not ideal," Claude said, running a hand through his hair as he surveyed the hostile advancing army. "We're far too deep into Empire territory to gain much by retreating. We could try to make a rush for the capital instead, but it'd be difficult to break through, and Edelgard's troops could easily trap us inside the city and have us surrounded."

You understood what he was going to say next. "Target the commanders," you instructed everyone, drawing the Sword of the Creator.

"You read my mind, my friend," he said, readying Failnaught. The members of the Golden Deer and the Church of Seiros followed suit in drawing their weapons, and their battalions followed their example in turn. "You heard him—let's weaken the army just enough so that we can break through. We're not here for a body count. We're here for Enbarr. Remember that, and conserve your strength."

With the Empire soldiers nearly upon you, everyone shouted as they rushed forward to meet the attack.

The next several minutes stretched on as you dodged and parried in all directions, hardly having any time to think as your body moved on its own, only striking at those who were threatening your allies. Whenever you located a commander, you'd fight your way to one of your former students and send them their way, and then resume putting your all into the fray.

As was often the case when thrust into a disadvantaged battle, you had to rewind the hands of time for the sake of those you cared most about. A soldier with a horseslayer had found their way towards Lorenz, leaving him vulnerable as his mount was decimated—at another instance, a stone from a ballista hit Ignatz in a critical spot—the next moment, a well-placed arrow knocked Cyril from his wyvern—at yet another, an assassin weaved their way to Hilda, slashing at her too quickly for her to retaliate. With each ephemeral moment of death that you witnessed, you held through it all, focusing your mind like a cold dagger. There was no need to dwell on what could be undone—not right now. Right now, you had to pull through.

A while later, the battle was starting to dwindle and reach its end. However, the troops under the remaining Imperial commanders still outnumbered your own, and were fighting all the more ferociously as they sensed the tide being turned against them. By this time, your stamina for pushing back the clock had been exhausted.

Not wanting to take any risks with your cherished allies, you began carving through as many soldiers as you could with the Sword of the Creator in hand. If you could take out the remaining commanders yourself, you could keep everyone else safe.

Tara gave a roar overhead as Claude dove at some soldiers that had come up behind you, slicing his sword at their heads. This wasn't good. It was too dangerous—

"Claude!" you shouted above the din of violence as you saw an archer draw close and aim towards him.

Seeing the approaching arrow, he pulled on Tara's reins. She barely managed to swerve out of the way. Not wasting any time, he leapt from her back as he swung his sword at the enemies closest to him. As he landed, he slapped Tara's side, and she ascended high above to circle out of any archer's reach.

"What do you think you're doing, Teach? You can't take on this many people on your own," he reprimanded as he switched to his bow. He shot at another arrow that was speeding towards you, striking it from the air.

He jumped out of the way of several more arrows, and looked up to see an additional arrow flying for his head. You sliced through it with perfect timing, and seeing a swordsman running towards his back, you pushed Claude behind you and parried the blow. As the swordsman jumped back and struck at you again, there was a rush of air and the feeling of something cleaving up the side of your right arm, and the gurgle of his death cry as you impaled him through the chest.

Pulling the sword from his body, you switched the position of your hands as your dominant arm hung dripping and trickling by your side. Claude shot at the archers that were aiming at you, piercing the hands of those too slow to move out of the way.

"You need to heal," he said, glancing at your arm as his back pressed against yours. The Imperial troops, recognizing you and him as the leaders of the army, had sent even more archers your way to eliminate the both of you. He shot down as many arrows as he could and threw his cape to deflect the rest, not even blinking as one grazed past his cheek.

"Claude, stay behind me," you said, voice gruff with exertion.

He huffed as he wiped the blood from his face, readying another arrow. "Be smart, my friend," he said disapprovingly. "Even with the Crest of Flames active, you'll be losing too much blood. Go heal as I said."

"Later," you insisted. You lifted your back away from his as you pivoted and tried to run ahead, towards the archers that were attacking you.

"Teach!" He grabbed your arm tightly, pulling you back. He grimaced as more blood spattered from your wound. "Are you insane? You're already hurt!"

You sliced away at a wave of incoming magic as mages started pouring in to give their support, even as you yanked out of his grip.

"We're in too tight of a spot. We need to break through, or we'll perish," you said. You could tell from the way he glared at you that he knew you were right, but still didn't want to concede.

"I can only hit so many people at once using Failnaught. You're stronger as a close-combat fighter—" He was forced to stop and shoot at several more incoming attacks, neutralizing them, but you understood what he meant.

"Lure them in," you said, and he nodded. Though you were reluctant to admit it, you knew he was right about one thing: you couldn't do this on your own. You had to trust him.

As he moved to bare his left shoulder to the enemy, you realized that he was going to goad them into injuring him—and once they did, they'd feel safer to draw closer. But as he did so, his arm jerked down as his body started to falter.

No. Not now.

As he was racked with coughing, you moved to cover his body with your own—but it was too late. In an instant, an enemy's arrow pierced his chest.

Was he dead? No, it just missed the heart. It—

He collapsed onto his side, reaching up with a trembling hand to break off the shaft of the arrow—

His clothes painted red in blood—

The world was darkening, pulsating, shrieking—

As the enemy closed in around you, you screamed, swinging the full length of the Sword of the Creator again and again, cutting through them like they were nothing. You didn't even watch the last body fall as you rushed to his side, lifting him up and clutching his head to your shoulder.

"Byleth...it's okay. I'm with you," he muttered, his fist clenched over his chest where the arrowhead lay, getting jostled in your arms as you ran. "I'm...with you…" He was sounding faint.

"Tara!" you shouted. "Please!"

His wyvern faltered and dove down from above. She was making distressed noises as she landed beside you, lowering down immediately so that you could place him on her back. You leapt up and clutched his body to your knees with one hand, his blood dripping down Tara's scales, soaking into your pants. You pulled up on the reins, and Tara ascended swiftly, soon taking you safely out of the range of enemy attacks.

Removing his coat and unbuttoning his shirt, you pressed your hand to his chest, using your recovery magic to try and stem the flow of blood. You very gradually pulled out the arrowhead with your other hand, moving it out of the way so that his tissues could mend properly.

"Byleth…I understand…" he said as he watched you, breathing raggedly. "You...helped me… Some things are...unconditional...you showed me…" He placed his shaking hand over yours as you continued to heal him. "You won't...be alone...ever again. I...won't ever leave...you alone."

Why was he saying these things? Why was he concerned about you now? Why...

Your vision blurred as tears filled your eyes.

"I'll be...whatever you need me to be," he breathed. "I'll do anything...you need me to do. I'll live forever. ...I won't go away, Byleth. I'll..."

"Claude...my dream, it's…" you started to say as his head fell to the side, eyes closed. You let your tears fall onto his unconscious face, forcing yourself to breathe normally as you poured all your energy into closing his wound. After what felt like an eternity, the flow of blood had stopped.

His extremities were cold, but he was still breathing. Tara pulled back towards the ground now that there was a good distance between you and the fighting, and you dismounted, carrying him in your arms. All you wanted in that moment was to hold him and not ever let go, but you knew that the others needed you. You gingerly leaned his body against a tree and left Tara to guard him as you started running back towards the conflict.

Thank Sothis, thank the stars, thank the god of miracles that Claude spoke of from time to time—no one had been fatally wounded while you were gone. You kept the dizziness at bay as your own blood leaked continuously from your arm, taking a huge chance as you sprinted forward with no one to guard you, your desperation to end the fight turning you to recklessness. Finding the final enemy commander, you struck him down swiftly, and the remaining enemy troops turned tail and fled as they saw his corpse fall to the ground. For now...it was over.

The plan to storm Enbarr immediately afterwards would have to be put on hold. Everyone needed time to recover.

In the moments after the battle, people were rushing to the aid of the wounded. Despite his own injuries, Raphael hurried back and forth, picking up as many bodies as he could and taking them to Lysithea and Marianne. Before long, the two women were pale and sweating, pushed to their limits as they healed one deep wound after another.

"Lysithea!" Marianne exclaimed as the other woman fainted. Hearing Marianne's cry, Leonie halted in binding her own leg and limped to Lysithea's side.

"No...don't worry about me," Lysithea said almost plaintively as she propped herself up on her arms. "I'm not...some child…"

"I know you're not," Leonie said gently as she slung Lysithea over her shoulder, doing her best not to grimace as she walked her off to the nearest tent. "Now come on. It's time to rest."

You stepped in to take Lysithea's place. You'd spent most of your magical reserves on healing Claude, but you had to try your best. You didn't want to lose anyone. You couldn't lose anyone. You couldn't. You couldn't.

While you stared down at your hands as they worked, pushing back at the thoughts in your head that threatened to paralyze you, the sound of soldiers happily whooping reached your ears.

"Look, it's Claude!"

"He's alive!"

"Claude, are you alright?"

Your breath hitched as you looked up. He was leaning heavily on Tara as he walked forward slowly through the encampment, his deep green eyes fixated on you. He looked pale.

When he reached you, your mouth tensed wanly as you tried to put on a smile for him, but he shook his head.

As you and Marianne healed the last few soldiers, he sat himself next to you. He tore off the sleeve of his shirt and bandaged your bleeding arm without a word.

You closed your eyes.

Through the tempest of your fear, through the storm of everything you'd endured, a sense of peace managed to reach you.

* * *

**Verdant Wind**

Leaning my back against a tree, I thought of Anielga and her strange blessing as I looked down at the bloody serenai petals in my handkerchief.

Protect me from pain, huh?

There was no doubt that my condition was the result of that blessing. And this pain that the spell was protecting me from...I think I finally understood what was causing it.

I watched the sunlight dapple across the bandages that covered your back as you dressed your wounds.

The more severe injuries we'd sustained from our fight in Shambhala were healed up, but we had to save the rest of our magical stamina for the battle ahead. At the moment, we were all making last-minute preparations before clashing with Nemesis on the battlefield. There was hardly any time to pitch up tents, so no one was really thinking about privacy as we all selected our garments and gear in the middle of the woods.

The muscles around your shoulder blades contracted as you finished up, hitching your tunic back over your skin.

Under any other circumstances, I would have probably struggled not to gawk at you like a damn fool, but this was a different time. Everyone was filled with a cool calm as they cleared their heads for battle.

It felt like we'd hardly had the time to regroup after the fall of Shambhala, and now we were headed towards the fight of our lives. But as long as you were with me, I wasn't afraid.

How long had I felt this way about you? Perhaps just recently...perhaps always...or perhaps since the beginning, bit by bit, little by little…

And as for you, I'd had my suspicions that you had a bit of an infatuation since the time we'd danced—I wasn't that dense, at least. But I didn't think that it was anything too serious. In close quarters, things could get heated. It was only natural that some tensions or minor crushes would crop up here and there. After all our time fighting together, I'd spotted Ignatz sharing some quiet moments with Marianne, Marianne leaning on Hilda's shoulder, Hilda looking expectantly at a blushing Lorenz, Lorenz murmuring under his breath as he stared at Leonie, Leonie laughing side-by-side with Raphael, Raphael doting on an indignant Lysithea, Lysithea and Cyril happily reading side-by-side, and so on, and so on. But that didn't mean that everyone was going to act on those moments and get with each other all at once...as amusing as that would be.

It was only a matter of time before you'd naturally move on to better things and find a perfectly acceptable wife. That was my hope, anyways.

Because something…"less acceptable" than that...that would only spell trouble for you.

"Claude," you said. As you turned to face me, your open tunic loosely framing your chest, I didn't try to hide the fact that I'd been watching you like I normally would have. Our eyes met as we saw each other clearly. "Has your cough gotten worse...because of me?"

We stood there, the time and air frozen around us.

"It's...no. That's not quite it," I said.

Your troubled eyes were just barely narrowed, as if your whole body was aching. "If I'm somehow making it worse...if I'm doing something to hurt you...I want you to tell me." No, this was no good...we couldn't have you feeling upset like this.

Holding your gaze, I said, "You know by now that I trust you more than anything. Do you trust me?"

"With all my soul."

"Then know this: nothing you could do could ever hurt me."

I pushed off from the tree behind me to walk up to you. "You wanna know how I know that?" I said slyly. You were still looking doubtful, but you humored me by shaking your head. "Because you, my friend, are a complete and utter goober," I teased, lightly pinching your cheek with my thumb and forefinger.

You grabbed my hand away from your face. "Oh? If I'm a goober, then you're a...a…"

"Yeah? Go on. I'll wait." I raised an eyebrow at you as I crossed my arms, only to burst out laughing seconds later as you kept trying to think of something to say. "Well, you've just proved my point, huh?"

"You're a...a nerd," you said unconvincingly.

"Aw, thanks!" I said, cocking my head to the side as you smiled at me.

This...I'd miss this.

I'd already made up my mind. This would probably be the last time you and I would ever fight together. And after that, I...

I could at least allow myself a moment of weakness before then, right?

I raised my fingers, pressing them to you gently as they flattened the loose fold of your tunic along your collarbone.

"Feeling ready?" I asked, eyes downturned as I focused on the task at hand, straightening out your clothes to cover your chest back up. I grabbed your coat off the ground and fit it on your shoulders.

I could see you nod out of the corner of my eye as you watched me clasp your neck guard around your throat. After that, you held up the pieces of your armor by your midsection as I tied your thin sash around them, finishing the close on the front to keep them fastened at your waist.

My eyes traveled back up to yours. I was close enough to see the patterns in your irises as you handed me your gauntlets.

"I'm looking forward to when the world will be at peace, aren't you?" I said, taking your right hand in mine as I slid the first gauntlet over your fingers, palm, and wrist. "Then these hands of yours can do things they're better suited for. Maybe dancing, or fishing, or raising a family."

"Or beating you at chess," you remarked.

"Hey, that was one time!" I said, tossing the second glove at your head.

You caught it as it fell from your face with a grin. "That's right. One-for-one, wasn't it?" you said as you tugged it deftly onto your left hand.

"Ahem," Hilda said, interrupting me before I could retort. She strolled past us as she stretched out her arms and shoulders. "You two _are_ going to be ready to lead us, right? Or do you really think you can take Nemesis down while staring into each other's eyes the whole time?"

"Your quips are as timely as ever, Hilda," I said nonchalantly as you and I turned to look at the rest of the army. The others were smiling through their preparations, though no one was chortling as they would have in a more peaceful setting.

Recently, I'd overheard some soldiers in the army joking that if you or I were a woman, we would have been close to marrying right about now. ...What a thing to joke about, huh?

"What, is that not funny?" she said as she caught the irony in my voice. She rolled her eyes and sauntered off to help Marianne with her equipment. "Sheesh. I will _never_ understand men."

With a sigh, I looked up at the sun's position in the sky. It was about time to give everyone the order to assemble. As I turned to do just that, I felt the light touch of your fingers on my wrist.

"Are you really going to be alright?" you said as I glanced back at you.

That's right. I'd given you way too much to worry about with my almost-dying stunt when we were outside of Enbarr. On top of that, I was pretty sure that I'd said some foolish things as I was bleeding out. They were all things that I'd meant, but...I didn't want to make any promises to you that I couldn't keep.

Damn it...sometimes it felt like all I could do for you these days was try not to mess up and cause you too much anxiety. But there wasn't anything to be done about that. Now, we just had to focus on stopping Nemesis before he could take any more lives. I was determined to get through the whole ordeal without seeing that look—that anguish on your face as you'd healed me—ever again.

Lifting my wrist from your touch to squeeze your hand in mine, just for a moment, I said, "I won't go dying on you if you'll do me the same favor."

I saw the hard glint of certainty in your eyes as I felt you squeeze back.

"This is it," I said as we let each other go. "Let's show that dusty old bastard what true strength looks like. Together."

* * *

**White Clouds**

There was a fiction book I'd read when I was younger, one that I'd really loved at the time. It was about a princess who wasn't actually a princess at all, at least not entirely. In truth, she was a bird who could transform into a human and back again, but she was too afraid to turn into a bird in front of other people—because whenever she did, they tried to put her in a cage. So she went her whole life pretending to be human, and pretty much everyone forgot about who she really was...even herself, as the ability to transform back slowly became lost to her. But one day, she met a powerful sorceress who could control both darkness and light. Everyone was terrified of the sorceress, but not the princess. When the princess laid eyes on her, she finally transformed back into her bird self—her true self—then and there. She took off with her wings, and the sorceress followed after her on a broomstick, and together they flew far and free. And though they were very different people, they became the closest of friends.

The whole book was about the adventures they got up to together, but it ended with them parting ways, getting married to two different men the book hadn't even mentioned before. But what didn't really get me was the ending...it was the way that they met.

When the princess first met the sorceress, she looked deeply into the sorceress's eyes, as though moved by something. And then she said, "There was a shooting star in the fall. There was a blizzard in the winter. There was a flood in the spring. But now that it is the summer, there is you."

That was the one quote that I had memorized, even after I grew up and forgot what most of the rest of the book was about. I always took it to mean that the princess thought that their meeting was imbued with significance, that she felt that the sorceress marked something truly new, whether good or bad—that the passage of time had brought them together, with the passion of some calamitous destiny. Maybe that really was what all that was supposed to mean—or maybe the author just put it there because it sounded pretty. Maybe I'd never know.

I wasn't sure why I was reminded of that book as their Royal Highnesses and I chatted up a storm around you. Jeralt, Alois, and a bunch of other knights were escorting us back to Garreg Mach. It'd been less than a day since we'd met you, but it seemed that Edelgard and Dimitri could scarcely keep down their excitement. Well, "excitement" may have been a strong word for it. But no matter how formally they dressed up their speech, they weren't doing a very good job of subduing the various questions and comments they were peppering you with. As for me, I was getting more and more irked by how you weren't reacting to any of my jokes. Was it really that hard to smile and nod, or something?

For just a second, a breeze whispered past, barely lifting some strands of your dark hair.

You turned to me sharply. "Did you say something?" you said.

Your eyes were always so serious, but it occurred to me then that they didn't look self-important, or disdainful. No...they looked like the eyes of someone who felt trapped. And at the same time, they reminded me of the ocean that I'd stared at so often in Derdriu...full of secrets, full of death, full of life.

"Me? No," I said, caught a bit by surprise.

With that, you turned away, perhaps to continue ignoring me.

After a few more hours, we finally arrived at Garreg Mach, and you went on ahead with Jeralt to speak with Rhea.

As you left, I remembered that, in the book I'd read, I was taken by how the princess and sorceress met. But it always bothered me that they ended up apart in the end, after everything they'd gone through together. The book didn't even explain why. All of a sudden, the princess just disappeared with her prince. The sorceress, seeing that she was gone, was said to have uttered a small spell, the last spell she ever cast. But what was that spell? What if the sorceress was cursing the princess, feeling betrayed that she'd left? What if it was a protection spell, one that would keep the princess safe even though they'd never see each other again? I liked to speculate that it was a promise that they would still be friends, that they'd find each other again one day. But with the book ending as it did, there was no space or time after that final page where that could actually happen.

The way they met was so different from the way they left each other. The meeting was magical, as meetings should be. When people enter your life, it can be terrible, or it can be...something else. Either way, meeting new people is easy.

But as I watched your back as you grew farther and farther away, I had to wonder.

How...

How does one say goodbye?

* * *

Author's note: The quote from the princess/sorceress story was inspired by the short story "The Dandelion Girl" by Robert F. Young!

Byleth's ring design just makes me think of bi pride colors, and I know it's not intentional, and nothing will stop me from seeing it regardless, so yeah.


	15. Chapter 15

CW: Descriptions of abuse/discrimination, violence

* * *

_Hey, my friend!_

_By the time you'll be reading this note, I'll have started heading back to my homeland. I'm sorry to be missing your coronation ceremony, among other things, but you'll do great. I hope you've realized by now that you can believe in yourself fully, in whatever you may choose to do. I mean that. Set your mind to it, and you can do anything._

_As for me, I can't help you rule over this land. If I don't set to work in my own homeland, then the peace that I've longed for will never truly blossom. So...I'm leaving Fódlan's fate entirely up to you._

_I know I'm asking a lot from you, but you're the only person who can do it—who can show the people of Fódlan how to live, how to respect each other, how to care for one another—because you are truly extraordinary. You have the intelligence, perspective, and kind heart that are all necessary to see this through. Still, the choice is ultimately yours. I left some contingency plans with Seteth in case you ever need to step down for any reason...but I dearly hope that you'll lead the people of Fódlan to their new dawn. This is the last favor I'll ever ask of you._

_I also know you've been pretty worried about my health, and I wanted to tell you that everything's going to be fine. It took me longer to piece things together than I'd like to admit, but I finally figured out that my curse isn't so much a curse at all. A while back, I'd received a magic blessing from an old friend of mine, one that was meant to protect me from pain. But I may not have chosen the wording of that spell well enough, because it seems to be protecting me from a very different kind of pain than what I would've originally thought._

_You asked me before if you had something to do with it, and I just want to reiterate here that it's not your fault. This pain is something that I've been inflicting on myself, and so I'll have to figure it out myself. You're not responsible in any way._

_Ha! I hope I'm not being too cryptic for you right now. You get the gist, at least._

_Regardless, I can safely say that the spell works. As you said, mature serenai petals can be used to soothe pain, and whenever the spell activates, that seems to be the case for me. That's good at least, right? Mystery solved. So, no worries about any of that._

_You can tell the others where I've gone off to eventually, but...not yet. There's still so much that needs to be done before the people of Fódlan and Almyra can accept each other. I know I haven't been a perfect man, but despite that, I'd still like our friends to at least think of me a little fondly...even if that means delaying the truth from reaching them for just a little longer. Even if I may never see them again._

_I'm sorry. You may find yourself wondering when I might return, but I can't promise you anything. If we were to ever meet again, I'd only want it to be in a happier world. The kind of world that everyone deserves—the world that you deserve. And I don't know how long creating that kind of world would take._

_So please...please don't wait for me to come back._

_I urge you to think carefully about your own future, but I'm not going to foist your marriage options on you like before (again, sorry about that). All I was trying to get at is that marriage isn't something to be short-sighted about. This matter isn't about having a fling, or a crush. This is your whole life we're talking about. And there are multitudes of women who would love to get to know you, who would love to love you, if you would let them._

_Heh. I hope I'm not ticking you off too much by writing this. I just wanted to explain myself a little. I'll admit, it'd be nice to see you do something that's best for you, all else be damned. While I've always been your number one fan when it comes to how altruistic you are, you could certainly stand to be a little more selfish._

_Well...this is a shitty way to say goodbye, isn't it? I figured that saying things through letter might be easier on us than in person, so I hope you don't think that this means I don't care about you. You must know by now that your friendship has meant so much to me._

_The thing is...In truth, I had every intention of using you at first—your power, and the Sword of the Creator—but you should know that that didn't end up lasting long. You're incredibly...you're just you, you know? Everyone can feel safe around you, and there's good reason for that. If there's anything I should have done differently, it was realizing that I could trust you much sooner. That being said, I don't have any regrets at how things turned out._

_Just knowing you has been like a dream—a good one. You've always seen me for what I truly am...and because of that, you've changed me. I'll always be grateful to you. I'll always think of you as my friend._

_Now perhaps you'll take this time to find a new friend who's not so high-maintenance, yeah?_

_I was never the best at ending these kinds of things. There's probably more I could write, but frankly, I'm running out of paper and my hand's getting cramped. There'll probably always be more that I could say to you. I suppose now is as good a spot to wrap up as any._

_Goodbye, my friend. Take care._

_Yours, now and always,_

_Claude_

* * *

**Verdant Wind**

I looked up at the sky as I rose up to meet it on Tara's back. Garreg Mach had been left far behind us, and Fódlan's Throat was rising up just ahead. For once, the sunset in Fódlan had colored the whole sky pink, just like the sunsets in Almyra. It felt like I was already home, and that I was leaving that home behind.

I'd been possessed by an unreasonable urge to visit the Goddess Tower before I'd left, to stare out at that setting sun, but I resisted. I was pretty sure that doing so would just make it that much harder for me to leave the monastery.

What Garreg Mach had meant to me had changed drastically over the years. It was a representation of the Church's hold on Fódlan, with all of the benevolence and close-mindedness that it wreaked on the land in equal measure. It was a place of schemes and politics, where I'd hoped I'd find something to aid my ambitions—a place that pleasantly surprised me, because of how much I ended up learning, and a place where I'd meet the classmates who I'd one day call my friends. It was the place where I got to touch snow for the first time, feel your fingers pat my hair for the first time, learn about all your favorite things for the first time...and most importantly, it was the place where you now dwelled.

As I listened to the sound of Tara's wings beating through the air, I tried not to wonder about where we might have been now, if the poison of my past hadn't followed me all this time—if I hadn't held myself back as I did—if we were in a different, better world. I knew that, regardless of any what-ifs, these were our current circumstances, and this was our current world. To either hide one's feelings, or to have those feelings coldy pushed aside, erased, and lost to time…that wasn't exactly something to look forward to.

Of course, in the world we'd help create, that sort of thing eventually wouldn't be an issue any more. But it wouldn't be easy. People's attractions and feelings couldn't be organized geographically like with nationalities, and I didn't know where to start with that yet. As things stood now, I could guarantee that peace would come between Fódlan and Almyra soon enough...but I couldn't guarantee when that other kind of peace would arrive. I wasn't even sure if it would come in my lifetime.

If, for whatever reason, your heart were to ever truly be captured by a man, you would have faced the burdens that were placed on people who weren't "supposed" to love each other. And you would have risen up to meet those burdens gracefully, gladly. That was the problem.

You were the boy in Jeralt's diary. The one who was locked in a cupboard for a day by your relatives so that they wouldn't have to watch you or feed you, because they didn't even think you were alive. The one who Jeralt tried to hide away from the world, because he couldn't trust the Church or anyone else to treat you like a real person. The one that used to run away from home and out of Jeralt's sight, because without even knowing it, you'd grown so lonely. The one who everyone ignored when you'd fallen and sprained your ankle on one of your escapades, because they saw that you weren't crying.

You were the man who'd trembled against my arms after our party six years ago, because you were afraid that no one in Garreg Mach truly cared about you. The only man to understand what it really was to live through the isolation that I'd lived through, through that emptiness that was worse than any pain.

And you didn't need to live that way anymore. Now, everyone cared about you, respected you—they _looked_ at you. And I wanted people to look at you. You were done with that lonely past of yours...and I could never ask you to go back. So I couldn't tell you that I...

As the rosy light of the sun died away behind me, I flew into the deep, dark shadows that had started to settle into the East. I resisted the impulse to hold my hand to my chest.

Focus. What were my plans for tomorrow? What about my agenda for the coming week? I had to focus on anything else. I had to think about anything that wasn't you.

Because I couldn't think of you without having to face the knowledge that I cared for you, more than I could bear.

Even through the numbness and serenai petals that soothed my lungs, a gasp escaped me. I pressed my hand over my mouth, clenching my eyes shut.

I felt Tara slow down, and she crooned lowly as she detected that something was wrong. The sounds of my shaking breaths were being suffocated under my palm. All I wanted was for this pain to pass me by, for me to keep going—but I couldn't move.

I sat there, bent over and nearly choking on my own breath for minutes on end, before I began to feel strange—like shards of ice were crystallizing, spreading from my chest throughout my body, dulling all of my sensations. I nearly dropped the reins before I caught them again, suddenly filled with a sense of exhaustion. The palpitations of my heart had stilled.

My body could move again.

"...It's alright, Tara. Let's pick the pace back up," I managed to say, patting her neck. Whatever that episode was, I was starting to feel a little better. Tara made an uncertain noise in her throat and drifted to the left, as though she wanted to start turning around, and I had to lean right to correct her. "Come on. You know we can't go back."

We continued on without further incident, passing over Fódlan's Throat as we entered a muted night sky that was obscured by the clouds.

I coughed, and no petals came out.

* * *

**Interlude**

Your former students were preparing to return to their homes for the time being, now that the war was over. They seemed eager to figure out what the next step of their lives would bring as they milled about, packing their things, reminiscing, and saying their goodbyes. And you were happy for them.

At least, you were supposed to be. You were probably happy, yes? You...had to assume that you were. You...you were…

"You don't look like you've been eating much, professor," Raphael noted with a spoon in his mouth. "You've got to stay on top of your diet if you want to stay strong."

You nodded at him as you passed through the dining hall.

"Ah, professor! I'm glad I caught you. Please take this tea set as a token of my gratitude." Lorenz held up a box towards you as you walked through the courtyards. You nodded again. "Ah...perhaps later, then?" he said as you kept going without taking it.

You didn't mean to be rude. There was a part of you that was, in its detached way, instructing you to say something back to your dear friends, warning you that you would regret it if you wounded any of their feelings in any way. But your body wouldn't obey.

When you saw the note that Claude had left on your bed, you immediately understood what had happened. Perhaps you should have expected it from the start, though you were aware that that expectation likely wouldn't have made things any easier.

You understood that crying was how people were supposed to feel and express sadness, and it was something you had done before. But now, you couldn't shed a single tear.

You didn't want to go back. You didn't want to forget the little discoveries you'd made about yourself, or your ability to change the muscles on your face. And yet, ever since you had seen that letter, it felt as if everything you had learned to feel had been sealed away.

Friendly faces and voices faded behind you as you climbed the stairs of the Goddess Tower, despite knowing that there was no real purpose in going there.

You couldn't help but remember that moment all those months ago, when you came up those stairs to see him staring out of a sunlit window, to see his back as he stood there, waiting for you.

Now, as you reached the top, the empty window to the sky beyond was all you saw. You approached and placed your hands on it as you looked out, taking in the unusual pink sunset that stretched on before you. Its rare color was just like the sunset from yesterday. The day he left.

You didn't even realize that someone else was in the tower until they gave a muffled scream.

"Oh! Professor, you startled me. You were so quiet," Hilda said from a far corner, clapping her hand to her mouth. "What are you doing? I, uh, don't mean any offense by this, but I was kind of hoping to meet someone else up here...um...hello? Are you even listening?"

You'd thought at first that Claude leaving was the best possible outcome. You were sure that his condition would only continue to worsen if he were to stay near you, and you couldn't stand to watch him suffer—to watch, and know that it was because of you. Though...there was something that seemed strange to you...

"Ah, I know why you're so upset. Believe me, I'm upset, too. Can you believe that Claude just up and disappeared without a word?" Hilda continued.

How was it possible for you to make his condition worse, in the first place? It had to do with magic, right? That and...something else. Pain. In his letter, he said that the magic was triggered by pain.

Hilda tilted her head to the side in puzzlement, before heaving a huge sigh. "Professor...listen...um, maybe this sounds crazy to you, but have you ever tried just telling him how you felt?"

How you felt?

You looked at Hilda, mouth tensing.

"...Or not?" she said in alarm as she stared at you.

With the discomfort that Claude felt towards you—that discomfort that confusingly came and went—that wouldn't be a good idea. Maybe that was what was worsening his affliction, in the first place.

But...was that really right?

You hadn't been mistaken about one thing: though his coughing fluctuated all the time, it was at its worst when he was close to you.

Pain. What kind of pain was he talking about? It was a pain that he insisted that you weren't causing, that he insisted was self-inflicted. Something about that description sounded familiar.

That was how you, too, felt when you were around him.

You'd felt that way every time you held yourself back when you wanted to press forward...every time that you wondered what it would be like if you allowed yourself to draw closer to him, and closer still.

But if he felt the same way…

Something was coming to you...visions, sounds, sensations...the memories that he had given you, dripping, then flowing. You raised your fingertips to the side of your forehead, closing your eyes, and they burst forth, coursing through your whole being.

The way that he brushed the bangs from your face after trying to tickle you in the greenhouse. The way he played with his hair, bringing the end of his braid and his fingertips wistfully to his lips during your lectures, his pupils dancing away from yours whenever you made eye contact. The smell of soap, and pine needles, and summer winds that you would catch from him as he leaned over your shoulder, looking curiously down at whatever book you were reading. How he spoke in his sleep at the party you held, whispering desperate apologies to his first wyvern as you pulled a blanket over him, how his brow relaxed as he awoke and saw you, and how he grinned sleepily as he booed your jokes. The way that he shoved past you to protect you from an axe's blow, and how he stretched out the muscles in his arms and chest in the infirmary afterwards, watching you from the corner of his eye. The smile he put on when he heard other students laugh at the two of you dancing together at the ball, and how that hard smile seemed to melt a little when he looked back at you. The simultaneously selfish, tactful, and considerate way he asked to have your father's diary, and how gingerly he handed it back to you as he returned it, faltering as he saw the redness in your eyes. How he sighed happily as he nestled himself deeper into your coat on a snowy evening, bringing the collar up past his chin—how he helped you search for your favorite things by the fireplace, and how excited he was as he tried to guess your favorite tea, season, food… His efforts to cheer you up with bomb-fishing, his wild hair plastered to his face and his clothes clinging to his body in the rain, the two of you drying off in the greenhouse, and his brief, lost expression when his face was close to yours.

The smile in his eyes when he saw you again, after all the time that you were asleep.

The hope in his voice as he divulged the true nature of his ambitions to you, and the next day, the hoarse chuckle he gave as he let you squeeze your arm around his shoulders as he told you about his past, and all the ways that people had tried to hurt him. How even to this day, he leaned forward when speaking with you, a rare red color appearing in his cheeks as you sipped tea together. The catch in his breath as you pulled him in to dance in a dark room. The seamless way that you fought at each other's sides, covering each other's backs, filling in for each other's vulnerabilities. The sweet words and silences he gave you, as you tried desperately to stay afloat among visions of perished Nabateans you didn't know, of students who had died, or fled, or disappeared, your hands clutching his back. The tender touch of his hands to your arm as he bandaged your wounds. How you showed your back to him as you fought against Nemesis, feeling Claude's arrows slice right past your hair and shoulders, never thinking for a second that he might hit you. The confidence and joy in his eyes as he grabbed your hand on the battlefield where Nemesis fell, in that moment of victory...and the grim kind of sorrow—the determination that drove him to be both soft and sharp, kind and dangerous—as he let go, his cape blowing in the wind as he walked away.

Your emotions tore free, permeating through you as they returned in full. Guided through every memory, you could trace the path of your feelings, and the path of his. And then you knew.

"Ah! Okay! Go get 'im! I think?" Hilda said, taken aback as your legs moved on their own, swiftly carrying you away from the Goddess Tower.

More than you knew that the sun would rise tomorrow, more than you knew that rain would always fall downwards, more than certainty itself, you knew.

You were in love.

And he...

The pain he was feeling...he hadn't freed himself from it yet.

As a new fear spiked through your chest, you started sprinting—down stairs, up stairs, through hallways—past windows, shrubs, and startled people. You tried to run faster, and faster, and still, it wasn't fast enough. The wind rushed against you, stealing away the breaths that echoed in your ears.

Why didn't you realize it sooner?

If he was still suffering under that pain...what would happen to him?

You all but threw yourself into the wyvern roost, grabbing the reins of the wyvern closest to you, knowing that it was Claude who had set you free—who had taught you how to fly.

So you flew.

* * *

**Verdant Wind**

My mother was happy to dig her knuckles into my scalp when I returned, as she'd always done, and my father abdicated the throne as soon as he saw me. They both patted my back and clapped my shoulders, saying that I'd grown into a fine man while I was away...before gamboling away together to celebrate. Those two were still ungenerous with their words when it came to the important things.

I shook my head as I watched them run off, and smiled a little for myself, as you'd asked me to do from time to time. I'd learned to accept the unmindful love that they enthusiastically offered me. You showed me that, so long as there were people in this world who were half as good as you, that I could lean on those people for support if I needed it. I didn't need my parents for that...I never did, or could. And it wasn't right. I knew that it wasn't right, but...I found that it worked for me just fine. Through all their faults, they were still my parents.

Of course, not everyone in Almyra was happy about my coronation—well, that was probably putting it generously. I had much better footing there, however, than when I'd last left. As it turned out, when Nader had run off in the middle of the war in Fódlan, he actually made his way straight to Almyra, boasting of all of my accomplishments.

From what I could tell, there were some embellishments here and there. For instance, I was _pretty_ sure that _I_ wasn't what destroyed Fort Merceus, nor did I ever defeat the Hero of Daphnel in a drinking contest. I wasn't going to complain, though, because his tall tales did wonders. He even mentioned General Holst and how great he was at partying, which must have shocked the many Almyrans who thought that people from Fódlan didn't know how to have fun.

I wondered how people would've reacted if I told them that you, a Fódlan-born, were the one to throw me a party—that you were the one to make me laugh countless times, while I still hadn't managed to make you laugh once. Wasn't that one of my original goals, all those years ago…?

No, that…that didn't matter, anymore.

At any rate, if it were anyone else spouting such outrageous tales, they probably would've been outcast—so it was a good thing Nader held so much sway. Given that stuffed animal renditions of him were being distributed to his fans for years, I wasn't all that surprised that he'd garnered some support.

As much as he helped, and as much as his friends—my friends—helped, I couldn't completely erase what I was from the eyes of the people. Now that the scales were tipped more in my favor, most everyone in the public sphere declared their approval, but I knew that those who still clung to their hatred were still lurking, muttering among themselves. I'd have to be vigilant at all times to avoid being assassinated.

On top of that, I'd fallen ill since my return. I was coughing more than ever now, but there were never any serenai petals that emerged when I did. I'd also been feeling extra tired and lightheaded these days, which was an entirely new symptom. Was it a lung infection?

I'd consulted plenty of Almyran healers and doctors, but they were stumped. If only Anielga were still around...

The dawn after my coronation, I wasted no time in sneaking off. I went flying over the mountains of Fódlan's Throat, looking for any signs of life from Tara's back.

I'd heard plenty of tales and legends about Kupala, a group of people who made armor in the mountains—and what's more, I'd heard that the magic and rituals there could differ from those in Fódlan and Almyra. It wasn't guaranteed, but I was hoping that I'd find some knowledge there that could help me.

Skimming my eyes across the rocky ledges, patches of snow, and treetops, I hunched over on Tara's back as I coughed dryly. My symptoms were worsening at an alarming rate. After about an hour of flying, my vision had grown too blurred to see straight, and I was starting to feel dizzy. I dug in my heels for Tara to descend, and we landed a little roughly in the woods on the mountainside.

"Shit...this is bad," I said, clutching my head as I dismounted. It wasn't safe to fly...but would it really be any safer to walk in this state?

I didn't have much choice, though, at this point. I needed a healer urgently. Had I known things would have worsened this fast, I would have postponed my coronation and gotten help sooner.

Tara sniffed my head in concern as I leaned a hand on her side, stepping forward bit by bit with labored breaths. I thought I spotted some footprints in the dirt up ahead...maybe the village was closeby.

I started to hasten in that direction when I bit back a scream, feeling the bones in my leg shatter. Falling to the ground with gritted teeth, I looked back and saw that a metal clamp had closed itself on my leg. A trap.

Tara growled and snapped her teeth at the clamp, not understanding how to defend me from its attack. It was attached to a chain, which was bolted to the ground. I sucked a breath through my teeth and tried to move, the links of the chain rattling and clinking. There was some give, but not a whole lot.

As I focused on the pain in my leg, imagining it as a shrinking hot point, as something diminishing and finite, I managed to struggle back onto my feet. I drew my bow and nocked it, just as a band of coarse-looking men emerged from behind the trees.

Were they Kupalans? Almyran assassins who'd followed me here? No...just a bunch of cutthroats. How distasteful.

"Look at how his wyvern's decked out! We've got us a fancy one," one of them said. "I bet he's carrying a lot of gold."

"I don't suppose you know who I am, but I could give you a lot more gold than what I'm carrying on me if you let me go. More gold than you'd ever need or know what to do with," I said. If I had my full strength and my wits about me, I could have taken them easily—hell, I probably wouldn't have fallen in the damned trap in the first place. But it did no good to feel sore over that now. I just had to survive.

"And if you actually _were_ anyone important, then you'd just have us executed the moment you returned home," their leader said matter-of-factly. Ugh. Couldn't I have gotten some dumber thieves to deal with? "Sorry, but I'd rather play it safe. We've lived this long by not showing any mercy, even if we'd have something to gain from it. It's impossible for you to spill our whereabouts if you're dead, know what I mean?"

With a tsk, I raised my bow and pointed it at him.

"I wouldn't do that. You're surrounded," he said. Yeah, I could obviously see that. It looked like there were six of them, but it was possible that there were more in hiding.

"Tara, go get help," I said in a low voice. She had to leave. If I fell here, then I wouldn't be able to protect her from getting poached.

As I feared, she ignored me, snapping her teeth and swinging her tail at the heads of any who tried to approach.

"Difficult, aren't we?" the leader said, drawing his own bow and pointing an arrow at her heart.

"_Don't disobey me_! Now go!" I shouted harshly, turning my bow on her. I shot my arrow, just grazing the vulnerable membrane of her left wing.

Recoiling in shock, she took off into the air, wailing in confusion as she circled once above me before taking off to the west.

"Hmph. How kind of you—" their leader said as my second arrow sunk in-between his eyes. His pupils rolled into the back of his head as he dropped dead.

"I'm sorry, girl," I murmured under my breath. Darkness was prickling in the corners of my vision, just as the other brigands began drawing their weapons, enraged that I'd killed their leader. One of the men brandished an axe over his head and ran at me with a snarl.

The only way I could dodge the attack was by flattening to the ground, where I'd be completely helpless...or so it'd seem.

The attacker took the bait, and as he swung his axe down towards my body, I rolled out of the way, exposing the chain I was bound to underneath. His axe broke right through it as it got lodged in the ground below. This was my chance.

I grabbed another arrow and stabbed the head where his Achilles tendon would be. There was a horrible popping noise as the tendon snapped, and he yelled as his leg crumpled. Seeing him fall, the others rushed forward to take care of me quickly.

Grabbing the axe that the first man had dropped, I threw it at the knees of the thief closest to me. Going off the momentum of throwing the axe, I spun myself up into a kneeling position and drew my sword. The next thief aimed his sword at my head, and I ducked sideways, letting his blade get stuck in the tree behind me. I made sure to slice through his stomach before I rose up on one leg, barely raising my sword in time to parry the blade of the next attacker. A fifth man came at my side, landing a hit on my shoulder with his gauntlets. I pushed off with my working leg and let the blow knock me as far from them as possible. After tumbling across the ground, I scrambled to my feet and threw my sword at the gauntlet-user's head before diving behind some tall bushes. As the injured thieves argued with each other and tried to pursue me, I staggered away, the clamp and broken chain dragging along behind my pounding leg.

I tried to run as best I could, but even going downhill, the oxygen just didn't seem to be reaching my lungs. Coughing and gasping for air, I tried to shake away the darkness that swallowed more and more of my vision, before realizing that I'd reached the end of the mountain ledge.

I slid to a halt, teetering at the edge of what looked like a thirty meter drop, when my vision blurred completely.

The world flickered, going opaque and black for a brief moment. When it returned a fraction of a second later, I'd dipped forward, the ground leaving my feet. The ledge I'd just been standing on had swung away from my boots, and the sky was spinning above me.

I was falling.

"By...leth…"

I could hear Tara's roar of dismay and her wingbeats as she dove after me. Was that right? Hadn't she left? I...must have been hallucinating.

Because the last thing I remembered, before my vision was extinguished for good, was hearing you shout my name...and the wavering image of you somehow soaring through the air, arms reaching out to catch me.

* * *

Author's note: Claude may be a sunshine boy, but he's a lethal sunshine boy. Never forget.

Phew...we're starting to get kind of close to the end, huh? But not to worry. The last chapter is going to be appropriately long, for...reasons.

Hope everyone's safe and doing well!


	16. Chapter 16

CW: Lots of implied NSFW fun. I abridged this chapter from its AO3 version to abide by FFN's guidelines, so feel free to check out the alternate version if you wanted to see the smut (my username's the same on that site). Thanks for reading!

* * *

**New Dawn**

Numbness.

Lightheadedness.

There was rain. I could hear the vibrations of it against the walls of the building.

What building was that? Where was I?

It was...warm. There were bandages around my leg, but the bone felt mended. A cloth was wrapped around my waist, and thick bed covers were pressed softly to the rest of my uncovered skin.

Fingers began brushing the hair out of my face, trailing along my forehead. When I opened my eyes, you were sitting beside me, mouth parting as you saw me stir. This wasn't a dream, was it? You really were here.

"You're alive. You're alive…" you said softly, the solemnity on your face breaking apart as you pressed your forehead to mine. I'd made you worry again, hadn't I? Still lightheaded, I forgot myself and closed my eyes. The numbness in my body made it feel like I was floating. The sound of the rain, the bed I was laying on, all of it—all of it seemed so far away. Except for you. You were here. You were here…

"I...sorry," you said. Before I could start to savor the warmth of your skin, you withdrew. As you leaned back away from me, I saw a wide cut that stretched along the side of your jawbone, just towards the start of your neck. What had happened?

I opened my mouth to speak, but I just coughed and coughed, and nothing came out. I tried again. Air passed weakly through my throat, but I couldn't make a sound.

"Don't speak," you said. "Just focus on breathing."

Shaking my head, I gathered all my energy to lift my arm and point at the cut, my fingertip grazing the skin of your jaw.

"Ah. I got a few scratches from when I caught you, that's all. You shouldn't concern yourself over…" you trailed off as you saw me lower my eyebrows, as though hearing my thoughts. Exhaling, you took my raised hand and lowered it from your face. "I was flying to Almyra," you said, "because I thought that was where you were. But maybe your god of miracles helped me, because on the way I saw Tara soar up from the mountains instead, not far from you. And I, ah...jumped from my wyvern when I saw you falling." You sighed as I made a face. You knew how I would have scolded and teased you over your carelessness if I could speak.

That all wasn't a hallucination, then—in a sense, you really were flying through the sky when I saw you. You were always full of surprises, weren't you?

"None of that's important right now, though," you said, pressing my hand between both of your own. "You're alive. I…" Your mouth froze as your voice hid itself away. There must have been something weighing on you. You tried speaking again. "...I found some healers that were able to stabilize you. They said we're in a place called Kupala. They said your spell had grown stronger—that the petals have built up in your lungs. That...they won't come out."

I could tell from your downturned eyes. I almost died.

I should have pieced it together sooner—that this curse and blessing was nearly killing me. I shouldn't have let it get this far, or let it endanger my own ambitions.

I shouldn't have made you so sad again.

Quietly, hoarsely, you said, "Claude, I...I wanted to find you because...I think I know what's been causing your pain." Lifting up my hand, you placed my palm over the heat of your chest. Lightning flashed across the window of the room.

"Do you know what's been causing mine?"

Oh…

Oh.

"I know you had your reasons for leaving, but...don't I get a say in this?" Your voice kept on coming, like a storm that I couldn't stop—like a storm that I...I didn't want to stop. "You can let me be there for you. I know that there are those who can be unkind to people like us, but I'm not afraid...and I'm not as selfless as you think. Because I would rather have you in my life over everything else in this world."

Thunder echoed through the air, chasing after the light that came before it.

Through my palm, I could feel how your voice thrummed through your chest. Through me. That was the only thing anchoring me right now, the only thing telling me that this was all real.

Even as my heart pounded against the numbness in my body, I didn't know what to do. I couldn't put you in harm's way, or make you hurt by being seen with me. At the same time, how could I hurt you further by turning you away? If you were in my position, you'd have made a miracle happen. You'd have figured out something...

You said, "I never got to tell you before, but...my dream is to know who I am...to discover new feelings and new things about myself...to change...and to do all of those things at your side."

That...that was a wonderful dream.

I promised I'd help you with your dreams, didn't I? And more than that...I wanted to.

It'd take a miracle to make this work. A miracle...yes—of course. Maybe I could—

There was so much I needed to tell you. Of course, as soon as I knew what I wanted to say, it had to be at the moment when I couldn't say anything.

You took in a shuddering breath, and I felt the tremor of your eyes in my own heart.

I couldn't tell you that, with every fiber of my being, with everything I had, I—

"...I love you, Claude."

You...you loved me.

You really loved me.

With more strength than I knew I had, I brought my hands to your face. I felt the smoothness of your cheeks as your eyes fell half-closed at my touch. Lowering your face near my own, I slowed to a stop. I couldn't ask you if it was alright, but you read my eyes and gave your answer. Traveling the rest of that distance between us, you pressed our lips together.

The storm outside strengthened as the wind tangled against the rain.

Your mouth was chapped in some areas, and soft in others, and it was yours...ah...it was yours. As we kissed, I felt that same fear I'd felt too many times before, but it was being drowned in wave upon wave of something—something like want, something like joy.

Pain.

Though I didn't want to separate from you, I was forced to push away as my lungs started spasming.

"Claude!" you said, holding me as I coughed over the side of the bed until my throat felt raw. I could feel the pain in my chest growing stronger as the shards of numbness around my heart started to break apart and fall away. As the coughing died down, I saw a scattering of white, bloody petals on the floor.

"Claude…" you said again, voice shaking with worry. You looked both afraid and hopeful, unsure of what this meant. You raised a hand to my face, stroking a drop of blood from my lips with your thumb.

"T…" I managed to make some noise this time. The fuzziness around my vision started to clear, just a little.

"What do you need?" you asked.

I put my trembling hands on your face and brought you back into another kiss. Hesitating just a moment, you kissed me back with concern still on your lips. I tilted my head slightly, and you opened your mouth in response, starting to taste mine.

More petals started to burst from my throat, and I turned my head away as I coughed them out, for what was probably minutes on end. My diaphragm felt sore and cramped at the end of it, but air was flowing into my lungs again. I inhaled deeply, feeling the prickling numbness within me grow softer, smaller.

"It's...it's coming out…" you said, glancing first at the bloody petals strewn across the floor, then at me. "Claude, what…"

"Do you understand now?" I whispered, caressing my hand along your cheek, my fingertips touching the base of your neck. "Byleth…"

You looked shocked to hear me speak. As the realization dawned on you too, your eyes relaxed and your cheeks flushed. "I think I do."

I sighed happily as you kissed me again with greater confidence, your tongue wrapping around mine. The emptiness that left me was being replaced with pain, yes—and yearning, rashness, elation, a fevered desperation. Your taste, your warmth—I wanted all of it. I wanted you in every way imaginable.

The relief that radiated from your body transformed into a sort of giddiness. Your hand reached behind my head, grasping my hair and pulling me in as you kissed my chin and the corner of my lips.

"I'm so glad. I'm so glad…" you breathed, before kissing me deeply once more. Enclosing my arms around your neck, I started to moan into your mouth. Your breathing quickened as we pushed and pulled at each other urgently, madly.

When our mouths finally parted, I took a break to cough and catch my breath. You brushed the petals away from me, not wincing as the wisps sliced into your fingers. I was still coughing up a few petals as you leaned in to kiss me again.

"Ah, Byleth," I said, breathing hard as I pushed you back. "You'll get hurt…"

You stared into my eyes for only a moment, our breaths shattering as our mouths collided. I could taste iron intermingling with the taste of you as the petals cut your tongue.

"I don't care," you whispered as you let me kiss away a fleck of red in the corner of your mouth, before moving your head lower, as if reading my mind, answering my impatience with your own.

Your teeth found my collarbone, and I coughed and panted brokenly as I was overcome with desire.

"What do you want, Byleth?" I asked, tugging at your clothes as you struggled to shed them completely.

"I want you," you said against my skin.

"Then have me."

The wind and rain crashed against the windowpane, casting wild shadows across the room as you climbed on top of me, our bodies finding each other and moving together in a kind of heated dance. We filled the air with our breaths, our cries, the sound of each other's names, until the storm eventually quieted.

Our movements grew still, and I pulled you close to me, on top of my chest. With a sigh, I looked down and kissed the top of your head. I could smell your sweat through your hair.

As the two of us got cleaned up, I made a face as pain shot through the bottom of my spine.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm pretty sore," I said. "Oh, hey, don't worry about it. You weren't hurting me. It's just...been a while. And by that, I mean _a while._"

"So everything…that was okay?" you said, looking down.

"Mm. Believe me, that was more than okay," I said, a playful roughness edging into my voice. When I saw your unease as you looked my way, I reached out for your hand and pulled you a step closer. I kissed your palm and the insides of your fingers. "Hey. You really worry too much."

I tugged your arm a bit more insistently, and you climbed into the bed beside me. Our foreheads were touching as you pressed your body flush against mine. After a moment, I felt you relax. "And you—" I started, then tried again. "That was okay for you...right?"

"Yes. More than okay," you said, and smiled at me. "I'm just glad that I didn't hurt you." You planted kisses along my closed eyes.

I inhaled and exhaled deeply. "Good. And I don't want you to go along with something if you don't know how you're feeling about it. I want it to be when you're sure."

"Alright. I promise you that."

As if to silence any further concerns, you nuzzled your nose and mouth to my cheek, your face pressed between mine and the pillow.

"I love you," I said at last, surprised at how right it felt to say those words as I held you. "I...I don't want to let you go."

"Don't," you said simply. Right. So long as you were around, everything _was_ that easy.

"Alright," I said softly. "I won't. But first...you should go back, after today. Fódlan still needs you."

You pushed back to look at me. You nodded, but the reluctance was clear in your eyes.

"So you can be a little selfish, after all," I teased, pinching your cheek. With a slight eye roll, you swiped my hand away and started playfully biting my fingers. "I guess you're gonna miss me, huh?"

"Not as much as you'll miss me," you replied against my knuckles as you kissed the back of my hand.

"Obviously," I said with a smile. "I really didn't mean to ask more favors of you, but...this has to be done. Our two lands, in the very least, need to be able to accept relationships like ours before I can love you freely. I won't have you suffering under a prejudiced world. I...I wouldn't be able to bear it."

You looked at me with all the sweetness and acceptance in the universe, and you reached up to pull my head closer, stroking my hair. "I understand," you said. "If that's how you feel, then I don't mind. And besides...it might be good for me to have some time to reflect on my own, before we spend the rest of our lives together."

"Th-the rest of our—" Your eyes lifted in amusement as I started tripping over my own words. My face was burning. "Don't—don't propose so inelegantly, my friend! I'd like at least one thing in our relationship to go the way it's supposed to!" I said indignantly. My heart was thumping something awful...not so much because you'd surprised me, but because I really liked the sound of spending my life with you.

"Alright, then forget I said anything."

"You can't just ask a man to forget something like that! Sheesh. Who said you were allowed to have a sense of humor?" I mumbled, certain that you were going to be the death of me. "Anyway, I support all that self-reflection stuff wholeheartedly...but that's the sort of thing that you're supposed to take your time with. I think you're overestimating the amount of time I'll be away—or should I delay my return to give you more time to yourself?" I smirked when I saw you glaring at me in reproach as I turned the tables on you, though I knew you could tell I was kidding.

"No. Definitely not."

"Good," I laughed. "Because I doubt I could stay away from you for more than a few months, tops."

It was your turn to go red in the face, your mouth barely falling open as it all sunk in. You looked at me in wonder. "Is that really possible, though? The war within Fódlan alone took years to resolve...do you think you can really do so much on your own, in such little time?"

"But don't you see? I won't be on my own now," I said, stroking the backs of my fingers along your cheek. "Because of that...and because I'd like to see you as soon as possible...I'll make a miracle happen. Just you wait."

"A miracle?" you said quietly, with just the slightest quiver to your breath.

"You've brought all sorts of miracles into my life, you know. So the next time you see me, I'll bring a miracle to you." I swept the bangs from your face, looking into your green eyes, which shone brighter and stronger than any stars could. "It feels like that's how it's always been, you know. That no matter how hard or impossible things got, you would always return to me. Now, my dearest friend, it's my turn. And nothing will stop me from coming back."

"I know," you said. We fell into silence as you kissed me, again and again.

White flowers and blood from before had been strewn all along the side of the bed, but the suffocating feeling in my lungs had gone. The coughing had stopped, too—and it would never come back again. We didn't need to say anything else.

* * *

I led the army behind me as we came from the East, seemingly pouring out of the sunrise itself as we joined your forces with an Almyran war cry. We crashed through the enemy ranks, our horses and wyverns trampling and clawing sideways through a wall of mages. I urged Tara past the others to find you.

Luckily, you weren't too difficult to spot. Your green hair glinted in the sun, just over a hundred meters away. You were atop the stairs in front of the entrance of Garreg Mach, fending off a shocking number of enemies that had gotten past your front ranks. Relief washed over me when I saw that you weren't hurt.

When the defeated remnants of the Empire and Those Who Slither in the Dark rose up against Fódlan, those we'd fought alongside in the war had all returned. I could see them now, not too far from you and the Knights of Seiros—there was Hilda, Lorenz, Raphael, Ignatz, Lysithea, Marianne, Leonie—everyone.

"Look! Claude's here!" Cyril shouted as he spotted me from afar, and everyone began to cheer.

The beleaguered expression on your face lit up with a new ferocity when your eyes met mine, and you tore down the soldiers that surrounded you like a whirlwind.

With a shout, I rained arrows on the forces that were threatening our allies, and dove down with Tara to slip my sword through the armor of any enemies that defended against my first attack. The ring you'd given me before you left was fitted under my glove, and though I was aware that I was dangerously bordering on superstition, I felt as though I was under its protection. I fought with a certainty that I'd never felt before in battle, something bordering on recklessness, moving towards where you were as though pulled by the tide. You fought towards me in turn, the wind tousling your hair as you struck Agarthan mages down with your blade with fearsome strength.

Once we reached each other, I leapt off Tara and sent her to safety, holding my impatience at bay as I focused on the enemies in front of me. I wanted to feel your hand in mine, to see you more closely, to see if the ghosts that had been haunting you for so long had finally left your eyes—but the feeling of your shoulders against me as we fought back-to-back told me everything I needed to know. With the improved morale and sheer force of numbers that the Almyrans brought to your army, the rest of the fight was won over quickly.

As we felled the last commander, the few remaining enemy troops began to scatter, making their retreat—this time, for good.

Everyone began cheering fiercely, soldiers from Almyra and Fódlan alike embracing each other like old friends.

"Well? How was that for a miracle?" I said with a laugh, turning to you. You were watching me with a wry smile.

Shaking your head, you said, "You're late. It's rude to keep a fella waiting, don't you thi—"

I cut you off as I grabbed you and lifted you off the ground, feeling how weightless you felt as we spun around and around.

And you began to laugh.

Your voice rang through the air, sounding brightly above the raucous noise around us, pure and coarse and sweet and cascading like a waterfall, and I nearly stopped breathing. Losing my footing, I spun out of control and we fell to the ground, with you on top of me.

After all of our efforts to rebuild this world, there were only a few soldiers who stared at us before hurriedly turning their heads away, only to find themselves surrounded by the sound of our friends in the Golden Deer clapping and cheering us on. The other troops followed suit, until even those who'd turned away reluctantly began to clap as well, pressed shoulder-to-shoulder against those who loved us.

"Oh? And what's so funny, my friend?" I asked with a smile as you touched your forehead to mine.

"Noth—nothing," you said, your eyes closing in joy. "I'm—I'm so happy…" And you kept laughing.

I cupped your face in my hand as I listened to that beautiful sound.

* * *

**Epilogue - Byleth**

In just the past year, you'd made memories that you wouldn't trade for anything.

Just after Claude's return, you shared a private exchange of vows as he slid a ring onto your finger in the Goddess Tower. He blinked away a single tear, only to jump away in surprise as you'd leaned in with fascination. You'd never seen him come close to crying—you'd thought that that ability had been lost to him since the cruelty of his childhood. And you touched your hand to his face as you realized that the tear you'd seen was from just how happy he was.

Then there was the public ceremony you held, which the Gonerils graciously allowed to take place on a flower-covered mountain by Fódlan's Locket, at Hilda's—and by extension, Holst's—behest. Before you or Claude could even ask, the former Golden Deer volunteered themselves to help with everything. Hilda planned out your suit with more enthusiasm than you'd ever seen from her, and Lorenz oversaw the porcelain that would be used for the food. Said food was "organized" by an undiscerning Raphael, who approved just about every kind of dish imaginable to be included. His decisions were greatly trimmed down by an ever-pragmatic Leonie, who was overseeing the budget...and the liquor. At no one's insistence except Lysithea's, a grand cake was commissioned, and Marianne assisted in picking out the bouquets and fabrics that would be placed around the tables. Ignatz coordinated all the color schemes, making sure each element went together, and helped Hilda decide what hues to use in her own work. And when she was hopelessly stumped on what to do for Claude's Almyran outfit, Cyril even put down his gardening shears with a sigh and agreed to help her.

When the awaited day came, you stood in a black suit with green highlights and a pair of emerald earrings, swallowing as you saw Claude step forward. His brilliant white robes were wrapped in gold sashes, gilded jewelry hanging from his forehead, arms, and waist. "You remembered my favorite color," he said when he drew near, holding up a white flower that he tucked behind your ear with a wink.

You would always remember the way that he beamed when he saw everyone from the Golden Deer laughing and dancing with his friends from Almyra, knowing just how long and hard he'd fought to see a world where this was possible. When his friends from both nations latched onto his arms and dragged him over to dance with them, knowing fully what he was, you held back happy tears of your own.

You remembered the now-familiar sight of mountains passing below you from Tara's back, as you and Claude traveled between your home in Garreg Mach and your home in Almyra's capital, and sometimes to see lands beyond either. Wherever you went, sometimes people would still frown at you if you didn't respond the way they wanted you to—and Claude would place his hand on the back of your head and laugh brightly at the things you said, as if you were the most charming and interesting person in the room, and that'd make the others act a bit nicer. At other times, when he had less patience, he'd make a few passive-aggressive remarks that would often fly over the other person's head. Though you never encouraged such behavior, sometimes you couldn't help but snort at some of the things he'd say, only making the other person more confused. "Since when could you laugh so cruelly? Since when could you be so bad?" he would tease facetiously, pulling your face towards his as soon as you found some privacy.

Sometimes, people who remembered how things used to be would remark on his two bloodlines, and the shameful weakness of his heart that allowed him to walk hand-in-hand with you—but a simple glance and the placement of your hand on your sword's pommel would be enough to silence them. He didn't like it when you did that—said it was bad to discourage discourse—and so you settled for placing your arm around his shoulders, leading him away from those kinds of people. You'd even indulge in some deadpan remarks here or there, and he'd duck his head down towards his crossed arms as he'd start cracking up. But as time went on, those moments grew fewer and fewer, until you seriously began considering that you might never experience such a moment again. There was no such thing as a perfect world, after all, but this was a free world, an open world. And it was getting better for people like you and him every day.

You remembered the way that his face lit up as you tried some of his favorite Almyran street foods, hot and fresh from the marketplace, or how he laughed when you tried something too spicy and began to calmly sweat from your forehead like a fountain, doing your best not to panic.

"This is my home, but...it's changed, somehow. It's like the flavors taste better, and the colors are more, well, colorful," he said at one point, looking around at the ornate buildings of the city center with awe. "There are all these little details I never got the chance to notice. Now that you're with me, I guess this is the first time I've ever felt safe while staying here…ah? Byleth?" You wrapped your arms around his head and began to hug him to your chest as tightly as you could. "Ack! I love you, too…!" You weren't expecting him to wheeze as he did, and you released him in alarm. "I've been told not to get a big head and all, but you don't need to actually compress my skull," he remarked as he cracked his jaw. He just smiled at you as you apologized profusely, before asking him if it was normal for love to manifest as an urge to embrace people with violent force. "Do I look like the kind of person who knows or cares what normal is?" he said affectionately, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the next food vendor.

Once while staying at Garreg Mach, you and Claude exchanged dismayed looks as Flayn, visiting your room to borrow a book on fishing, found a small vial of oil hidden behind the volumes on your shelf. She asked innocently what the bottle was for, and Seteth loomed over her shoulder, looking about ready to throttle the both of you. "It's poison," you blurted out without thinking, as Claude stumbled over himself at your gaffe. Seteth's scowl only deepened as he interrogated you as to why you possessed such an insidious thing, and Claude stepped in, explaining that the "poison" was really just a weedkiller you'd been working on—a poison for plants—and that you'd misspoken. "I'm sorry," you said after Flayn and Seteth left, face burning red while Claude snickered uncontrollably into the crook of your neck.

There was the heated argument you broke into when he wanted to name your kitten "Kai" and when you wanted to name her "Meow-meow". He'd raised his voice, saying, "I swear to our fucking god of fortune and back, we are _not_ naming her that." You'd tried to shout in retaliation when you realized that shouting in an argument was very different from shouting in battle, and that you didn't really know how to do it. Your voice cracked terribly, and he froze before bursting into laughter as he pulled your forehead against his. "Fine, fine. You win," he'd said then, though he'd groan and shake his head every time you called Meow-meow by her name thereafter.

There was his alarm when, as you stroked your fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp, you found a tiny spot where no hair was growing. After you calmed him down by assuring that it wasn't from going bald, he mulled it over and realized it must have been a scar he'd gotten from when he was a kid. He relayed the story to you vividly, about how he tried to do a backflip for the first time and hit his head on a rock—and instead of treating the cut, he immediately tried again...to the exact same result. After smiling at that image, you asked why he'd never known about the scar until now, and he mused that he was never informed about it, because no one had cared enough to notice before. At that, you wrapped him fiercely in your arms, saying "I love you. I love you. I love you," and he laughed with closed eyes as his cheek was squished to your lips again and again.

Sometimes, as you slept, you saw Dimitri's back as he left Gronder Field to pursue the Empire, or Edelgard's sorrow as she begged you to cut her down, or Rhea bleeding, falling from the sky, or your father closing his eyes for the last time in your arms—and you heard Sothis's silence ringing through it all. "Wake up, Byleth," Claude would say, his arms stilling your movements as your body tried to fight, gently pulling you away from that world that you'd once lived in. "It's okay. I promise you it's okay. It's all over."

You'd clumsily tried to tease him, once, asking why he still called you his friend from time to time now that you were married. Without looking up from his book, he replied, "You're my shooting star, my blizzard, my flood—my rain, my forest, my ocean—my friend, my love—you're you—and yet, all those words will never be enough to describe what you are to me. So 'my friend' will still have to do, won't it?" He only glanced up from his reading to watch, with a hint of smugness, how much his words had made you blushingly speechless.

There was the sound of him biting your name into your shoulder, you breathing his into his neck, the feeling of his moonlit body trembling against yours each night—and then on especially late nights, the feeling of him collapsing into your arms and falling almost instantly asleep as the exhaustion from his daily duties and your nightly passions would catch up with him. You would brush the hair and sweat from his face in those moments, and clean both of you as well as you could before succumbing to your own tiredness—but sometimes you, too, would fall quickly asleep, leaving you both to awake the next morning feeling in dire need of a bath.

There was one morning when you awoke in surprise to the sound of broken dishes and his yelps and curses, only for him to sheepishly emerge with a tray of breakfast for you, covered in suds and dripping dishwater from his hair.

There were other disgruntled mornings when you would wake up to a head of matted hair as he drooled on you, and other mornings still when the first thing you would see would be his smiling eyes as he ran his hand through your hair, along your face and neck, playing with the whorls in your ear or poking at your freckles and birthmarks as he examined every part of you.

Sometimes your eyes would open to the pale blue of early dawn as he mumbled things in his sleep—sometimes happy things...sometimes sad. Sometimes he would mouth "Byleth" quietly, and every time, you would reply, "I'm here." You held your breath as he'd nuzzle into your chest at the sound of your voice.

There were other moments you could reminisce about, and still more that you had yet to experience, each one a precious discovery...each one a miracle.

And as you fell asleep each night beside him, these miracles dancing through your heart, you knew with certainty that you were excited. You knew with certainty that you were you. And you knew that you couldn't wait to see who you would become tomorrow.

* * *

**Epilogue - Claude**

"This isn't a decision to be made lightly," you said as I half-stood, leaning over to put the finishing touches on the small braid in your green hair. Giving up on the letter you were reading for now, you set it on the small table between us.

The library we were in was in Almyra, but there were plenty of people visiting from Fódlan, as well. At the moment, we were taking care not to speak too loudly, to keep from disturbing the others present.

"Since when have I ever made decisions lightly?" I said as I sat back in my chair. I dropped my fingers from your hair to stroke along your jaw, stopping at your chin. We were technically arguing, but no one would have been able to guess that if they looked at us now. "I've had plenty of time to think about it, okay? There's no way I'm going to leave you all by your lonesome."

You took my hand away in your own, bringing it down to the table. Your eyes were downcast, pushed down by worry. "But you shouldn't say yes for my sake. I want you to do what's best for you."

"Hey, you can't get rid of me that easily. Don't I get a say in this, too?" I said, lazily resting the side of my chin on the knuckles of my other hand. I smiled up at you ironically. Hadn't you said something similar to me before, once upon a time? "You never got to choose this for yourself. Meanwhile, I _do_ get to choose, and it's a choice that most people would kill for. No one really thinks that getting to live for a long time is a bad thing. You do know that, right?"

You shook your head, saying, "But I don't know how much longer it will be. I'm similar to Rhea, but you're aware that I'm not quite the same. I have no idea what you'd be getting into."

"Couldn't the same be said about any decision, or any path in life? It's all a leap of faith, in a way. So, say we end up living for a thousand years. Ten thousand years, a hundred thousand years. Then so be it. Besides, can you imagine all the books I could read in that time? All the locations we could travel to?" I dropped my voice to a whisper, tracing my finger down the back of your hand, touching upon the ring that I'd given you a year ago. "...All the different places and ways we could fuck?" Your face had grown impressively red, but you looked as serious as ever.

Oh, well. Maybe an appeal to logic, then? Resuming my normal voice, I shrugged and added, "Think of it this way: if I die early and regret my decision, there'd be no going back. But if I live a long time and find I don't enjoy it, then that's not exactly a problem that can't be easily remedied."

"Don't say things like that," you said, looking stung. Ah—I should have chosen my words more carefully.

"Sorry," I said, gripping your hand tightly. "I'm just trying to lay out the worst-case scenarios, but you know there's no chance of that happening. I'll never regret being able to stay by your side. And I'll never get tired of being around you, if that's something you're worried about."

Your eyes turned downwards again, like you suddenly found the table very fascinating.

Oh. It _was_ something you were worried about, wasn't it?

"Oh, Byleth," I said softly, taking your face in both of my hands. If we weren't in public, I'd have leapt across the table and kissed you right now.

"I...I know." You turned into my touch, pressing a kiss to the inside of my right hand. "I'd be so happy if we went through with it, but...can we hold off on that decision for a little longer?"

"Alright. But I'm not changing my mind."

Exhaling through your nose, you leaned forward to kiss my forehead before retrieving your letter from the cover of my book.

"Hilda actually had a lot to say this time," you said after your eyes finished scanning the rest of the paper. "She and Ignatz have started collaborating on a fashion line, and they've really gotten Marianne out of her shell. She actually agreed to model for them, as well as—"

"Lorenz," I said.

"Yes."

"Let me guess. He placed himself in that position?"

"No, actually. They asked him. That's really sweet, I think." You smiled down at the letter. I could tell that you were wondering how everyone else was doing.

"I know," I said. "We should stop by Fódlan soon. How about next month?"

"I'd like that," you said. "Although...that would mean that we'll be traveling for two months in a row. Will Meow-meow be okay without us for that long?"

"Ugh." I instinctively wrinkled my nose as you spoke her name. "Well, if Nader can handle a wyvern, then he can handle a little kitty cat. Cats are just tiny wyverns that can't fly, anyways."

"That's a terrible comparison."

"No it's not! They're both carnivores, they can have an attitude, their bodies come fully weaponized..." I listed off on my fingers. As I noticed you staring at me with a grin, I shook my head. "But, um...let's go back on-topic. How does Albinea sound for this month?"

"Why do you want to go there so much? You hate the cold," you pointed out.

"What, do I have to spell it out for you?"

Your lowered brow indicated that, yes, I had to.

With a sigh, I took on a melodramatic tone of voice, gesturing grandly. "I want you to protect me from the chill. I want you to bundle me up in your strong arms and whisk me up a snowy mountain, where we can watch the forest berries and ivy defrost under the glow of the sunrise."

"Sounds difficult. Why can't Tara carry you up instead?"

"Don't be so cruel, Teach! Can't you indulge my fantasies at least a little?"

Ah-ha, was that a bit of a glower I saw on your face? You were blushing once more, but this time you looked about ready to faze through your chair and out of existence.

"You know I don't like that anymore," you muttered.

"Why? Did I say something wrong, _Teach_? Feeling awkward now, _Teach_?" I said, leaning towards your face with more taunts ready on my tongue. Your hand darted out to grab my chin, but I jumped back, just out of your reach. "If you want me to shut up so badly, you'll have to try a little harder than that." Snatching the letter from your hand, I danced out of my chair and away towards the bookshelves as you pushed off from the table.

"You want me to shut you up?" you said as you tried to swipe for the letter, fingers just falling short as I raised it above my head.

I smiled at you as I backed away. "I want you to chase me."

I moved past the ladders and sunbeams from the windows on the high ceiling, weaving through the forest of bookshelves until you fell out of sight.

The others in the library had taken notice of us and began whispering in confusion.

"What are those jerks doing?"

"Wait. Is that—is that the former ruler of Fódlan?"

"Is _that_ the former king of Almyra?"

"In our public library?"

"_Please_, I'm begging you, just let me study in _peace_!"

Whoops. We'd forgotten our inside voices, hadn't we?

For a second, I felt your arm snake around my waist as you came up from behind me, spinning me around almost as if we were waltzing.

Just when I got to thinking that you were the most romantic goon I'd ever met, you released me. Tottering off-balance, I hopped on one foot as I heard the rustle of paper being dangled above me. I didn't have to look up to know what _that_ was.

"Come on. We'd better leave these poor people alone," you said as you folded up the letter and tucked it away, sounding awfully casual for someone who was rushing past me towards the exit.

"Funny. I was about to say the same thing," I said as I started racing after you, dodging around chairs and vaulting over tables, to the chagrin of many.

I pounced as you stalled in front of the doors, my arms crashing around your neck and shoulders as I grabbed you. You stumbled forward before turning into my hold with a knowing smile, kissing me as you leaned your shoulder against the door panel.

If I'd told myself one year ago that this was what I had to look forward to, I wouldn't have dared to believe it. But now, I believed it as much as I believed in you. Now, with my every breath, I knew you had me, and I had you. Now, and always.

Bursting from the library's double doors hand-in-hand, we ran through the warmth of the morning sun, flying into the dawn on the sound of each other's laughter.

* * *

Author's note:

Yeah, lemme just...frontload this story with angst and then...backload it with fluff. That's...that's how tone works, right? Hah, I didn't quite want to go all Lord of the Rings and drag out the ending past its welcome, but I couldn't bring myself to cut out the fluff. The boys deserve it.

Now that the fic's done, I'm so happy and thankful for all who've read and stuck with it 'til the end. I've loved writing this story and sharing it with you. Thank you, thank you, thank you!


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